Path To Sainthood
by I Fancy Hugh Dancy
Summary: An agent from Ireland is sent to Boston to investigate an international crime. The more she digs, the deeper her involvement becomes. As danger looms ahead, will the Saints be there to help her? Or are they the enemy in the first place?
1. New Blood

**+ PATH TO SAINTHOOD +**

**Written by:** Lourdes, a.k.a. **I Fancy Hugh Dancy**

**Rating: **T – MA for violence, language and adult situations.

**Genre:** Action/Adventure/Romance/Thriller

**Summary: **An agent from Ireland is sent to Boston to investigate an international crime. Though the more she digs, the deeper her involvement becomes. As danger looms ahead, will the Saints be there to help her? Or are they the enemies she was to be rid of in the first place. Post Movie.

**Disclaimer: **This story is pure fanfiction. People, places and names have been altered to fit into the plot. I do not own the Saints or any of the recognizable characters from the film. I own Lourdes and various other stock characters that appear later on in the story.

**Author's Note: **Hey everyone! This is my first Boondock Saints fic. I've been a big fan of the movie for ages and have always planned to write a fic, but only now have I found the time to do so! I'll try to update it as much as possible. Enjoy!

I would love to hear from anyone and everyone. Any comments, questions, corrections, constructive criticism, suggestions and encouragement are welcome and appreciated!

vvv

**Chapter 1: New Blood**

"Gentlemen, thank you so much for joining me at such short notice." The door of the room was quietly closed as the surrounding blinds were shut. "Please be seated."

The voice that greeted the six federal agents as they all filed into the rectangular meeting room was stern, yet gentle. Wooden chair legs scraped onto the white, tiled floor as they each took a respective seat, curiosity, and even tension, evident on their countenances. The owner of the voice stood at the head of the oblong oak table, hands held firmly behind her back, quietly observing each of them. She tugged at the black suit that she was wearing, which managed to conceal her form yet hug her curves at the same time, then re-adjusted the tight ponytail that held her long, black hair firmly in place. Her expression was inscrutable, though her face remained gentle as she began a slow pace towards the centre of the table.

"Before I begin, I shall introduce myself." Briefly pausing, she took another cursory glance around the room, making sure to have made eye contact with each of the federal agents before her. "My name is Lourdes Villamor, Special Agent in the _An Garda Síochána_, or, Ireland's National Police Service. I have been sent here to your city of Boston from Dublin to investigate an international crime that I am sure you have all been notified about." With a series of murmurs and concurring nods from her audience, Lourdes continued, "It has been over a month since the hit on supposed IRA members here in Boston. That case has not even made considerable headway, and now, rumours are already spreading of another attack. So far, there is no evidence of this, and it is only high speculation, but we at _An Garda Síochána _have nonetheless decided to take the necessary precautions against this threat."

As she finished her sentence, a firm hand abruptly shot in the air, immediately gaining her attention. An agent with wavy, dirty-blond hair and of about forty years of age stared her straight in the eye, gaze firm. "Agent Paul Smecker." With squinted eyes and a tilt of the head, he continued, "Agent Villamor, I would like to be the first to bid you welcome to Boston. Though, I'm curious. What do you propose these 'necessary precautions' will be?"

"Agent Smecker, my team and I will work together, side by side, with the FBI in order to trace any of these perpetrators and any one else linked with this attack. Our business here in Boston is to apprehend these killers and bring justice to the families that have been affected. As an international crime against the IRA, to many, an organized mob, it is our duty to investigate any leads regarding mob killings…"

At this statement, Paul Smecker tensed. Keeping a calm exterior, he cleared his throat as he interrupted, "I beg your pardon, Agent Villamor, but we have to respect our jurisdictions. If the _An Garda Síochána_ desires to send agents all the way across the Atlantic to work on this case, then they will have to go by our protocols, our…"

"Do not misunderstand me, gentlemen." Lourdes breathed out a sharp sigh, taking a seat. She was prepared for this type of reaction, knowing that the 'territorial boundaries' regarding the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the United States was of much importance. "As I have stated, we will work _together_. My own jurisdiction only allows me to work on this case, which is international, so there is no need to worry. No territorial lines will be crossed. We're not here to handle any of your 'local business'."

Smecker's moment of reflection was interrupted by a round of chuckles that sounded in the room. Receiving accepting glances from his fellow agents, he finally gave a slow nod of approval. It was impossible for him to refuse, not if there were no grounds for it. She was going only going by the book, and he could see that. Finally, with a shake of his head and a smirk appearing on his face, he remarked, "I think it's going to work."

vvv

"This isn't going to work."

With a slammed door on his face, Murphy MacManus was left out in the cold.

Literally.

"Fine!" he screamed through chattering teeth as strong gusts of snow and wind battered on his coatless back. Having nothing else to resort to, he gave the green door that stared at him a hard kick, proclaiming, "That's the last time I'm gonna see ye! Yer fuckin' loss, Stacie, not mine!"

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand and giving a last defiant look at the closed green door in front of him, he turned on his heel and took his leave from the flat. Heading purposely for the outdoor stairs, he continuously mumbled random curses to himself, so angered at the thought of being dumped that steam was almost visible from his ears. Rubbing his arms in a futile attempt to remain warm, he took hold of the stair railing, stomping as he descended.

_Well, fuck me, another relationship down the drain_, the MacMannus brother said to himself. He couldn't help it now, could he? Being secretive about his 'job' was the only way he could protect the women he was seeing. How would _they_ react if he said, "Hey babe, I'm a Saint of South Boston. I kill evil men." Obviously he would be a fucked up lunatic in their eyes. Though most of the time, his mysterious disappearances, especially at night, would be misconstrued as romantic trysts. That, of course, had never been the case.

Stopping abruptly - which almost caused him to _roll_ down the icy steps – he marched his way back up the stairs and made his way towards the green door. Letting out a breath, he banged as hard as he could, ignoring the biting cold on his hands. "Hey! Stacie!" he yelled, stopping his incessant noise for a mere moment in order to listen for any sign of his now _ex_-girlfriend. "It's fuckin' freezin' out here! At least give me back by shit!"

Murphy stared expectantly at the door for a few seconds, trying to mentally fight off the cold. When he heard not a sound, he finally let out a sharp sigh, and then turned on his heel once more. After a few moments, when he heard the sound of the door creak open, he turned eagerly, hope evident on his face. Instead of seeing Stacie, all he saw and felt was his black coat dangling over his face. Not long after, he felt the bulk of his backpack hit him square in the stomach. Doubling over slightly, the last sound he heard was the door slamming once more and the lock clicking shut.

"I need a fuckin' drink."

vvv

"Need another drink?"

"Sure, Doc." Sitting at the bar, Connor MacManus gave the bar owner a friendly nod and a smirk, pushing his empty pint glass to the side. "Another Guinness will do it."

As Doc McGuinty happily fetched another pint for one of his best customers, Connor took a cursory glance around the small pub. It didn't surprise him the least bit that it was this busy on a Friday night with the regular clientele. Though what did make him wonder was why his brother was nowhere to be found. Even if he was busy with something – or someone – he could always be found at McGuinty's on a Friday night, downing pints, sharing laughs.

As if on cue, the pub door chimed open. Nobody seemed to pay attention to the incoming customer, but Connor perked up, half-expecting it to be Murphy. Much to his disappointment, it wasn't. Though, much to his interest, it was someone that he had never seen at the pub before.

And even more to his interest, it was a woman.

He observed her innocently as she shrugged off her black trench coat, her eyes flickering throughout the bar as if in search for something. Connor tilted his head in question at this, but said nothing as he continued to watch her. Just as the pint of Guinness was placed in front of him, he met eyes with the woman's. To his surprise – and amusement – her gaze did not flinch at all, nor did she quickly look away. He decided to test her, keeping his blue eyes locked to her brown ones. Her gaze still did not falter.

It was only after a few moments did Connor willingly take his eyes away from hers, twisting his head over to gain Doc's attention. He motioned his head towards the woman's direction. "Hey Doc, ever seen her before?"

With a squint and an adjustment of his glasses, Doc replied with a shake of his head, "I've n-n-ever seen her here b-before…fuck! Ass!" He shook his head once more for a moment and continued, "Wonder w-what she's doin' out 'ere by her lonesome."

Just as Doc finished his sentence, the woman took the empty seat at the bar. In between her and Connor was a half-sleeping man, dozing off for a few moments then momentarily waking up. Connor's curiosity got the best of him, and given the noise within the pub, he had to strain in order to hear the conversation between Doc and the woman:

"What'll it b-be, lass?"

"Pint of Guinness, please and thank you."

A few moments after Doc poured the drink, he queried with squinted eyes, "Is that a hint of an Irish accent I hear?"

Seemingly amused at this, the woman gave him a small smile. "I studied in Ireland for many years. I guess I picked up a little bit of an accent."

"Ah." Doc smiled in return, wagging a finger at her. "And o-ob-obviously yer not Irish."

"No, Filipino by descent." She gave him another smile, saying sincerely, "I just love Ireland. That's why I chose to spend so many years there."

"Can't blame ye." Doc let out a chuckle. "But what b-brings you all the way 'ere to Boston, then?"

Her smile suddenly disappeared as she replied tersely, "Business."

Doc smiled and nodded at her respectfully before approaching another customer. Connor continued to surreptitiously watch the woman from the corner of his eye, his instincts immediately telling him that there was something peculiar about her. At the moment, he couldn't pinpoint as to what it was exactly, so he decided to let it go.

As Connor finished the last of his pint, his attention was drawn towards the woman once more. Nobody seemed to really pay mind to what was going on, but Connor could clearly see that the large bulk of a man that was obviously invading the woman's personal space was unwelcome. Connor knew that if he came to her aid, he would surely start another bar fight – which, for the most part, he had already done so numerous times and had caused quite a lot of damage to the pub. Though, if he sat there and did nothing, the woman could possibly get hurt – this, in the end, would probably just start another bar fight anyway. With a shrug of his shoulders, he chose the former decision and stood from his stool. Though, he didn't get far.

With lightning agility, the woman snatched the man's groping hand and twisted it with so much force that he bellowed in pain. It still didn't cause as much noise in comparison to the racket within the pub, but it was surely audible to Connor and a few men around them. He then vaguely heard her say the icy words, 'Don't fucking touch me' before letting the man go. Rather than continuing to assault the woman, the brute reclaimed his sore arm and disappeared into the crowd. Probably thinking it was best to end her visit to McGuinty's, the woman slapped a bill on the bar, stood, placed on her coat, and proceeded to zigzag her way towards the exit.

Doc blinked a few times before turning towards Connor. "I think s-she's full blown Irish, even though she doesn't lookit."

Connor raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. "D'ya reckon?"

"Aye." Doc gave a nod of certainty.

"I reckon yer right," Connor gave him an amused smile. "She's too feisty not to be!"

vvv

**A/N:** So, what did you guys think of it so far? There is so much more to tell in this story, trust me! After we get through the introductions and setting the plot, it will get better, I promise! But I want to know your thoughts, comments, suggestions, ideas and criticisms! Thank you! xx


	2. Matter of Saints

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Here's the second chapter. I'm working as hard and fast as I possibly can so we can all get to the good part! Special thanks to IrishSaints for being my first reviewer!

vvv

**Chapter 2: Matter of Saints**

Murphy continued to angrily stomp his way over to McGuinty's, hands in pockets, backpack lugged over his shoulder. Spotting the lively pub amidst the snowfall from the corner of his eye, he no longer paid attention to the biting cold nipping at his skin. Rather than concentrating on the still boiling anger within him, he instead began to crave the bitter taste of beer, imagining the cold, bubbly liquid running down his esophagus, then warming his stomach, subsequently relaxing his incredibly tense muscles, and…

He was suddenly shaken from his wonderful daydream by a soft whack on his shoulder, consequently knocking his bag to the ground and, to his annoyance, spilling some of its contents all over the wet, snow-covered sidewalk. Before he could mutter a curse at the incident, he distinctly heard an 'excuse me' hastily offered as he bent down to quickly replace his belongings into the bag. Snapping his head upwards towards the sound of the voice, his green eyes instantly met dark-brown ones.

Lourdes then bent down beside Murphy with an apologetic smile on her face, helping to pick up the scattered contents of his bag. As she began to observe exactly what she was holding, she momentarily squinted her eyes in suspicion as she noticed peculiar newspaper clippings and – she was not at all mistaken – bullets. _Bullets?_, she questioned inwardly, though wiping the look of suspicion from her expression. Before she could question, or even apprehend, the stranger, he cleared his throat, catching her attention.

"Sorry 'bout that," Murphy mumbled quickly, almost snatching his belongings from Lourdes' firm grasp and wildly stuffing them inside his backpack, "wasn't watchin' where I was goin'."

"No problem." replied Lourdes with a cordial smile as the two both stood up simultaneously. As indiscreetly as possible, Lourdes quickly gave Murphy a once-over - which, to the high amusement of the Saint, certainly did not go unnoticed. As she had been trained to do, she mentally recorded what she saw in front of her: distinctly Irish; late 20's; mysterious backpack with newspaper clippings and bullets inside. Of course, she couldn't accurately identify the other contents of the bag for certain, but obviously bullets came with guns, and whether or not he had any weapons stuffed in that bag of his, he still merited some suspicion in Lourdes' opinion.

"Well," Murphy gave her a small smirk and a nod, hauling his bag over his shoulder once more, "see ya."

Giving him another smile, Lourdes began to pace away from Murphy as they continued on their way in opposite directions. Turning the corner, Lourdes casually looked back as to where the Irishman was headed, and, at the same time, memorized to the best of her ability every feature and characteristic. To her surprise, Murphy had not far to go to get to his destination. Only after a few more paces did he take a left, walking right into McGuinty's pub.

"McGuinty's." Lourdes whispered under her breath, eyes squinted in even more suspicion. "Looks like we have ourselves a potential meeting point."

Pursing her lips, she made her way over to her royal blue Camaro, hopping inside and instantly turning on the engine. Before she began to drive away, though, she slipped something out of the sleeve of her coat.

A newspaper clipping.

Quickly reading through the article, the circled sentence immediately caught her attention. It read: "_Supporters of the late mobster, Yakavetta, murder enemy crime syndicates yesterday._"

"Yakavetta?" Lourdes widened her eyes in sudden recognition as she remembered hearing about mass killings of mobsters in Boston just a year prior. With even more suspicion and question clouding her mind, she knew exactly who to go to for answers. Pumping the gas, she pulled out of the parking space and made her way over to the place in Southern Boston that she knew best – the police station.

vvv

"Finally, ye fuckin' made it!" As Murphy entered the door and made his way towards the bar, Connor happily greeted his sulking brother with a light, jovial slap on the back. "What the fuck took ye so long?"

"Got caught up with somethin'," replied Murphy abrasively as he promptly snatched the drink sitting on the bar that Doc had offered to him. He plopped down on the stool beside Connor, resting his elbows upon the bar. As he heaved a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders, "At least I'm 'ere now."

Immediately recognizing his brother's attitude and expression, Connor's own spirits plummeted. Living with his brother for almost thirty years, and of course, being twins, he almost always knew _exactly_ what was going on with Murphy. Also, he could say the same thing about his brother's own intuition about him. Seeing the louder twin so quiet, Connor decided to test his theory as he proclaimed slowly, "She dumped ye, didn't she?"

"Fuck off, Con."

_Bingo_.

"No, seriously, she dumped ye?"

After a few moments of silence, Murphy replied spiritless before he took another sip of his drink, "Yea."

Connor and Doc both shared a squinted look of pitiful condolement, their expressions frozen in a wince as though _they_ were the ones in pain. When Murphy didn't pursue the topic any further, in unison, they merely mumbled, "Ouch."

As Connor gave Murphy another slap on the back and as Doc slid another drink in front of him, Doc piped up, "W-well, y-ye know what they s-say…It's b-better to have l-loved and lost t-than to have loved blindly."

It was Connor and Murphy's turn to share a look. When Doc eyed them blankly, Murphy eventually commented, "At least that one _almost_ made sense."

"Aye." Connor shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. "Almost."

Doc gave the smirking twins a flippant, dismissive gesture, and then set off to take care of his other customers. With his smile slowly disappearing from his face, Connor suddenly grew serious, leaning forward closer to his brother's ear. "Look, Murph, really sorry to hear 'bout what happened between ye and Stacie, but ye gotta concentrate right now." As he saw Murphy's nod of acquiesce, he continued, "I've got some things to tell ye 'bout. This is some real shit, bigger than anything that we've ever dealt with before. Da wants to meet with us tonight to talk about everythin'…"

"I've got the stuff right here…"

Connor gave his head an abrupt shake. "It's not about the fuckin' Yakavetta supporter murders. Like I said, this is bigger than anythin' we've ever taken care of. Da hasn't told me much, but I think we'll get more answers from him tonight."

"Hell, if it's another hit, sign me up." Murphy scoffed, necking his pint and slamming the glass on the table. "I'm in the fuckin' mood."

vvv

Paul Smecker swung his office door open in obvious annoyance, his patience for being continuously disturbed as he worked running thin. His uninviting snarl eventually disappeared as he perceived who stood at his door. Clearing his throat and now wearing a welcoming smile, he stepped aside, ushering his guest into his office. Subsequently closing his blinds shut, he offered the empty seats across the table from his. "Agent Villamor, please come and make yourself comfortable. You'll have to excuse me. I was very busy with a case, and a few of my detectives – well, one in particular – kept disturbing me."

"Not a problem, Agent Smecker." Lourdes gave him a smile as she shrugged off her coat. In jest, she remarked, "At least here, for most of the time, your detectives are sober."

"That's arguable." Smecker remarked, mock seriousness lining his face.

As the two shared a laugh, Smecker inquired, "How's your team doing on the IRA case? Any leads?"

"I haven't been notified of anything of importance as of yet." Lourdes informed Smecker, taking a seat across from him. "Although," pulling the newspaper clipping out of her pocket, she pushed it towards Smecker, who gave it a curious glance, "I literally bumped into an Irishman this afternoon, and he spilt all of his things on the sidewalk. I picked this off of him when I was helping him gather his things. It was just a few meters from a pub called McGuinty''s. I know it's just a newspaper clipping, but look at what he had circled." As Smecker read the article and observed what Lourdes had pointed out, she continued, "There were also bullets in his bag. I know I'm merely speculating at the moment, but I remember that only a year ago there were numerous mob killings right here in Boston. And if I also remember clearly, you were the one heading the investigation. I thought this might be of help to you."

"Thank you." Smecker slowly took the newspaper clipping from the table, placing it in his pocket. Doing his best to conceal his real emotions, he inquired seriously, "Did you get a good look at the man you took this from?"

"A very good look." Lourdes replied confidently, to which Smecker inconspicuously tensed, "Like I said, it's only mere speculation. But I think I will follow up on this…"

Smecker suddenly leaned forward, unintentionally snapping, "I thought we spoke of this before, Agent Villamor. This is our jurisdiction, not that of the Irish National Police Service." He knew the very consequences if anyone out of the Boston Police Department found out about the Saints and their hits – not to mention the hits that he himself had helped them commit. Not only would he be imprisoned for life: he would be responsible for the apprehension of the Saints and, inevitably, for scum to continually roam the streets of Boston, unchecked, unafraid.

"I beg your pardon, Agent Smecker," unphased by his sudden actions, Lourdes placed her hands together, leaning forward in the same manner as Paul, "but like I mentioned to you and your fellow agents just a few days ago, anything related to mob crimes must be investigated by us. Whatever this may be can be a part of this international mob war, this IRA hit."

"You don't know that for sure." defended Smecker, trying not to sound so eager.

"And neither do you." Lourdes pointed out coolly, leaning back comfortably upon her seat. "Every mob crime and those connected to them _must_ be investigated. And to some, the IRA _is_ a mob. We don't know who was really behind that IRA attack, and now, who's apparently planning another one." Breathing out, she continued in a reasonable tone, "Italians, Russians, Americans – and even the Irish themselves – can be behind of all of this violence. We never know. Thus, no one can be overlooked at this point."

Paul Smecker let out a sigh. He knew that she was only doing her job, and yes, that it was also his responsibility to solve the IRA case and, inevitably, to keep Boston streets safe. Even though he could rightly be placing the Saints in jeopardy, or in the way of jeopardy, he also needed answers. So, after a few moments of deliberation, he said, "Alright. Do what you feel is necessary. But everything goes through me first."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Agent Smecker." Lourdes smiled, preparing to take her leave. She said in an agreeable tone, "Don't worry, Paul. I'm not one to carry out any operations here without the auspices of the Boston Police Department and the FBI."

Smecker followed her towards the door, slightly chuckling. "I'm glad we have a good understanding of protocol, Agent Villamor. You wouldn't believe the caliber of some of the people I've – and continue to – work with."

With another chuckle, Lourdes nodded her leave and Smecker quickly closed and locked his door. Waiting for her to exit the building altogether, he stalked towards his desk, instantly grabbing his telephone and punching some numbers. After a few rings and a gruff hello, he simply said,

"We've got trouble."

vvv

**A/N:** What'd you guys think? I'd love to hear from you guys! xx


	3. Taking Care of Business

**Chapter 3: Taking Care of Business**

"We shouldn't really leave Da all alone, ye know."

"He can fuckin' take care of himself, Murph. He's Il Duce for fuck's sake."

"I'm just sayin', Con, he ain't exactly _young_, ye know…"

"Would ye quit it?" With a grunt of exasperation at his twin's prattling, Connor pushed the door to their father's home open. After their fated rendez-vous with him the previous year, they found themselves staying over at his house more and more, feeling as though the Saints were not only a force to be reckoned with, but more importantly, finally a family once more. Still adjusting to the newly furnished home, the brothers kicked their shoes off at the front door and made their way towards the living room. There, they found their legendary father, Il Duce, sitting on the rocking chair while silently smoking a pipe. Just as he placed the telephone down onto the receiver, he twisted his head upwards and turned his attention towards his boys, eyeing them alternately. Then staring at Murphy, he beckoned for him to come over, motioning his head abruptly to the side. With a look at Connor, then back to Il Duce, Murphy crossed the room and halted beside his father. His questioning, side glance was immediately answered…

…with a slap on the back of the head.

To the amusement of Connor, Murphy let out a surprised yelp, quickly rubbing his stinging head. In annoyance at even _more_ pain, he turned to his brother and snapped in all seriousness, "I told ye we shouldn't leave 'im all alone! Now he's pissed!"

Da put down his pipe calmly on the coffee table, giving his head a shake with a gruff, "Sit down, boys."

Doing what they were requested of, the MacManus brothers took a seat on the sofa across their father, fully facing him. Firstly giving each other an identical look, they then turned their complete attention to their father.

"Da, ye gotta fill us in on what's goin' on." Connor began eagerly, placing his hands together over his knees, "I told Murph about it just a few hours ago."

"Before that," Da began, leaning forward on his seat as he slid a photograph on the table in front of his sons, "do ye know who she is?"

"Pretty gal, that's for sure." Murphy commented with a whistle, smirking to himself. Giving his brother a nudge with his elbow, he questioned, "What d'ya think, Con?"

"Can't argue with ye, Murph." Connor replied, finding himself wearing an identical smirk. After another look at the photograph, he faced his father. "Where'd ye get this, Da?"

"Smecker just faxed it to me."

The brothers gave each other identical looks once more. Murphy cleared his throat, trying to hold back his amused laughter rather unsuccessfully. Placing his hand over his face when he couldn't control his giggles, he almost squealed, "Da, if this is the kind of stuff Smecker has been sendin' ye, I don't think Ma would be too happy!"

With a rough shove of his elbow upon Murphy's arm, Connor rebuked, "Murph, shut the fuck up, or _I'll_ hit ye!"

"Boys, would ye watch yer fuckin' language?!"

Upon hearing his father's own foul-mouthed reprimand of their foul-mouthed natures, Connor gave out an annoyed grunt directed towards his brother before taking the photo into his own hands. Taking the photo in between his fingers and looking at it observantly, he suddenly recognized the woman in the photo. He twisted his head to meet his father's peering gaze. "Don't know her by name, Da, but I did see her at McGuinty's today. Didn't cause any trouble. She just came in, had a pint, and then left not long after that."

"What?" Snatching the photo from his brother's hand, Murphy scrunched his face as he gave the photo a closer look. After a moment of silence, he muttered under his breath, "Well, fuck me."

"Sorry, Murph, I don't think she'd fuck ye." Connor grinned at this widely, proud that he had another chance to take a light-hearted stab at his brother. He cleared his throat triumphantly. "I think I'm more her type."

"No, no," Murphy completely ignored his brother's comment, his expression finally that of recognition. "I bumped into her today, just outside of McGuinty's. It was right before I came in."

"Ah." Da sat back on his chair comfortably, apparently pleased with the answers that his sons had given him. "And when ye say ye bumped into her, ye mean ye literally bumped into her, correct?"

"Yea." Murphy answered with a shrug of his shoulder. "I dropped my bag, and she helped me pick my stuff up…"

It was then that Da shook his head, almost in disappointment. "So yer tellin' me that she saw most of yer things, such as the newspaper clippings and bullets?"

Murphy's face changed into utter confusion, furrowing his brows. "Wait, what? How did ye know about…"

Standing up from his chair, almost regally, Da began to pace through the living room, deep in thought. "Her name is Special Agent Lourdes Villamor, part of the _An Garda Síochána_. She's been sent here from Dublin to investigate the hit against the Boston IRA members last month." He briefly paused, making sure he had attained his sons' full attention. "That was what I wanted to talk to ye about tonight, boys. I knew some of the men that were killed and hurt in that attack, and I've done my own digging about that case. Right now, I don't know the identities of those responsible for the hit, but I do know that they are Unionists. That hit attacked high-ranking officers in the IRA, including those connected with the political members of Sinn Féin."

"Who would attack the IRA or the people affiliated with Sinn Féin?" inquired Connor with furrowed brows, piecing together the situation at hand. "For years, the IRA and the Sinn Féin political party had always been peaceful. Granted, there were a few scuffles here and there, but never any murders."

At this question, Da answered simply, "Extreme Unionists that hate the independence of the Republic of Ireland. Irish, English, even some Scottish, they work – and now, kill - to make the Republic part of the United Kingdom once more."

Murphy leaned back onto the couch with a sour expression. "But what'll killin' a bunch of IRA and Sinn Féin people do? That ain't gonna help bring Ireland into the UK again, now would it?"

"Terrorism. To set an example," Connor quickly suggested, earning a nod of agreement from their father. In recollection, Connor recounted, "Verbal and political fighting between both sides had gone on for years, and it had been only recently that they've gone underground. Guess now it's physical and out in the open…and even more violent than anyone thought."

"Exactly." Da gave out a sharp exhale at this new revelation. "Smecker just told me that Agent Villamor and her team are investigating another rumoured Unionist attack, and that now, they're working with the Boston Police Department and the FBI on this case."

"What does that have to do with us?" questioned Murphy, confusion written all over his expression. "We had nothing to do with those IRA attacks."

"She took one of yer newspaper clippings when she was helping ye gather yer shit, and that's when she also saw yer bullets." Da replied, looking as though he wanted to give Murphy another slap on the back of the head, just for good measure. "She grew suspicious and gave the clipping to Smecker as evidence. She knew about the Yakavetta trial and the mob hits that we were responsible for."

"So she automatically thinks we're suspects of this IRA attack?" Connor inquired, almost insulted, though his face remaining calm and firm. "Hell, I'm all for the Republic. Fuck uniting with the UK!" he muttered bitterly as an afterthought.

"I think she has an inkling that we might have been responsible for it," explained Da, placing his hands behind his back, "but for now, all she wants to do is investigate." He glanced at Murphy, eyebrows raised, "The bullets didn't help either."

"Aw, shit." Murphy breathed out, placing his hand on the arm of the sofa. "She got a good look at me, too. Thought she was just checking me out. Didn't think nothin' of it."

"Ye were probably too busy checkin' _her_ out," Connor muttered, though contributed, "but she spoke with Doc at the bar for a bit." He remembered his previous encounter with Lourdes as he eyed his brother and father alternately. "Don't know how much of it is true, but she's Filipino by descent and had studied in Ireland for many years. Said she loves our country…"

Murphy beamed. "I like that in a woman."

Connor rolled his eyes at his unwelcome interjection and continued, "When Doc asked what brought her to Boston, all she said was 'business'."

"Guess both my Saints have had an encounter with this 'Angel'." Da cleared his throat, sitting back down on his rocking chair. "Right now she's got nothin' on Murph but a random paper clipping and an eye-witness account of unused bullets in his bag. But if she keeps digging – and if Smecker is supposed to be helping her – she might find out more. And if she's as good, or even better, than Smecker, our entire operation may be uncovered."

"So what do we do?" Connor questioned, then proposed, "We can't get rid of her, Da. She's first of all a woman, and second of all she ain't evil."

"Hm." After a brief pause and complete silence in the room, Da finally proclaimed, "Right now, lads, we don't have a chance but to do some investigating of our own. The girl, we'll deal with later."

vvv

Lourdes laboured on her laptop for hours, searching for anything that would help her with the case. With empty mugs of coffee around her desk and hard rock music playing in the background, she tried her best to concentrate, printing out anything that had to do with the IRA in Boston and related mob attacks and dealings. As she did so, she found that most of the articles related to mob killings had one thing in common: The Saints of South Boston. Though neither photographs nor names had ever been published, she made notes dealing with anything related to them - sightings, sketches – anything. It may be her only lead.

Soft rapping on her hotel door, followed by a muffled voice saying her name repeatedly, shook her from her concentration. Knowing Smecker would have more information about these dubbed 'Saints', she shut her laptop, called it a night, and made her way to answer the door. As she opened it, she was greeted by a smiling, 6'2'', well-built, spiky brown-haired Irishman. "Hey, boss." He greeted with his deep, rhythmic voice as he rested an elbow on the doorframe, "The team and I were gonna head over to a pub for drinks. You comin' or what?"

"Not tonight, Sean. I think I'll just stay in tonight." Lourdes responded with a shake of her head, fatigue evident in her voice. "The IRA case has got me at least 18 hours a day, even more, now that I'm coming up with things."

Sean scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes for effect. "Same with us, what's yer point? We've all been workin' on this fuckin' case for more than two weeks, and we've got almost diddly squat. That Boston Police Department's not helpin' much, either." He gave out a sigh, placing his hands on Lourdes' shoulders. "Look, boss, yer in Boston. Ye can't just stay in this hotel room and work yer ass off to death on this case without breaks, or outings, or…"

"I _do_ go out, thank you very much!" Lourdes cried out defensively, giving the handsome Irishman a playful shove. He only eyed her warily.

"Driving to the police station doesn't count."

"Oh. Well…"

"Mates!" Sean rightly bellowed through the corridor as he exited the room. "The boss is comin' out with us tonight!"

Hearing cheers echo through the corridor, Lourdes laughed, "Agent Flannagan, you definitely have to learn some manners."

Sean leaned in closer to Lourdes' face quite flirtatiously, giving her a cad-like smirk that he was famous for in all of Dublin. "Maybe ye can teach me, then."

"Flannagan, back away from the boss. That's an order." The fiery red-head, Isolde O'Callaghan, piped up from the corridor. Another agent working on the IRA case with Lourdes, she made up the second of the team of four that had traveled with her. "Ye know if ye don't, she can knock ye out cold before ye even blink!"

A chorus of laughter sounded from the corridor. _At least my team is in good spirits_, Lourdes contentedly thought to herself. She would never admit it, not even to herself, but she was already becoming frustrated about the case, even if it was just the early stages. Once again feeling the fatigue wash over her, she beckoned for Sean to follow the others, who were already preparing to leave and locking their rooms. "Go on, Flannagan. Have a pint or five for me."

A flash of disappointment appeared on Sean's face, but with a shrug and sigh, he said, "Too bad ye can't witness another night of my amazing wooing skills."

"I've already had a taste of your wooing skills, quite a lot if you may remember," Lourdes beamed brightly, "and I think I've had enough."

Closing the door on Sean's perplexed face and hearing another chorus of laughter from her team, Lourdes shook her head and turned off the lights. She then made her way towards her comfortable bed, slightly hearing her comrades exit the small, private hotel. As their voices became softer in the distance, Lourdes felt herself drifting more and more into sleep.

That is, until she heard several gun shots fire.

With screaming and screeching tires following, Lourdes awoke with a start, instantly reaching for her gun and running towards the window. Back pressed against the wall and gun held tightly in front of her chest, she peered outside. To her horror, she saw a black Mercedes turn the corner, some windows shattered, and right in front of the hotel, part of her team huddling over a body. Just as Lourdes grasped her cell phone in order to alert Smecker and the Boston Police, the sound of panicked knocking came from her door.

"Lourdes, Lourdes it's me!" cried Isolde in distress, continuing to bang loudly and frantically on the door.

Placing her gun in her holster, she sped towards her door, opening it fully. As she beheld the mortified Isolde in front of her, the woman whimpered,

"Sean's been shot!"


	4. In Disguise

**A/N:** Hello, my lovely readers and reviewers! I hope you are all enjoying the story thus far. There is so much more to go, so no worries! I am currently compiling a soundtrack to go with the story, and I will post the list of songs in later chapters. For now I'm working diligently on the story, so I hope you all enjoy this next bit!

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**Chapter 4: In Disguise**

"So it was a drive-by shooting? And the car was a Black Mercedes?"

Once more, Lourdes found herself in Smecker's office, the two agents sitting face to face. Only this time, she was _reporting_ a crime to him rather than solving one with him. Giving Paul further statements and information in addition to what she had already described to him over the phone, Lourdes couldn't fathom how exactly she was in this predicament. And Smecker – he found himself in the midst of _another_ case, but this one, of course, involving all five of the agents from Ireland; which, in effect, meant that it was _another_ international case.

Lourdes gave him a firm nod, her face emotionless. "Yes, that's what my team has informed me of. They fired shots in return, trying their best to defend themselves, taken by surprise by the shooters. They have no clue if they hit and killed anyone, only that they shattered some windows and hit a tire before the car drove off. I witnessed the black Mercedes leave the scene, and it was only that one vehicle."

At her description, Smecker pressed his clenched fists upon his chin thoughtfully. "And thankfully only one of your agents was shot?"

"Agent Sean Flannagan. He's in hospital right now in critical condition." Lourdes paused here, her face turning into stone. "After speaking with my team, we've come to the conclusion that those bullets were meant to kill all of them…of us."

"You mean you were a target as well?"

"Yes."

Wearing a blank expression, Smecker ran through all of the possibilities in his head. The Saints couldn't have been responsible for that attack…could they? If the Saints knew the identities of all of the Irish agents, they would definitely not have shot at the women. Of that, he was sure of. Replaying the conversation that he had had with Il Duce a few weeks prior, he did not seem at all bothered by the presence of Irish National Police Agents in Boston, or by the fact that they could possibly be on their tails. Though, Smecker didn't know this for sure. But there was only one way to find out.

Before either of them could speak, firm knocks came from Smecker's office door. Furrowing his brows in question, for he didn't expect any other visitors at that particular time, he said, "Yes, come in."

As the door creaked open slowly, Connor peeked into the room. Immediately attaining both Lourdes' and Smecker's attention, Smecker gave Connor a wide-eyed, questioning glance. Rather, he looked horrified at Connor's sudden, unexpected, and frankly, possibly problematic, appearance. Connor recognized the alarmed look and realized his own self-induced predicament, so quickly thinking on his feet, he began calmly, "Sorry, Agent Smecker, but I'm the Agent that you called for, Agent…Connolly." As Lourdes turned her head to face Smecker at this introduction, it was Connor's turn to give Paul a wide-eyed glance, tilting his head to the side.

Catching his motion to play along, Smecker cleared his throat, "Ah, yes, Agent Connolly. Good to have you here, finally. Why don't you give me five minutes with this young woman and then we'll talk about your duties?"

Connor found himself staring at Lourdes as Smecker spoke with him. She didn't smile nor frown at him, but her face was quite delicate. Her long, straight black hair was untied, let loose neatly upon her back. Connor's blue eyes languidly, yet indiscreetly, traced her form from head to toe. He was surprised to find her in civilian clothing, wearing a jean skirt (that _nicely_ showed off her toned legs, in his opinion), flip flops, and a simple green halter top. He certainly found her a pleasure to look at. Though, he wasn't only observing her for his own selfish purposes. Subconsciously, Connor was trying to size her up, so to speak, trying to understand exactly who they were dealing with. Again, he found that Lourdes met his eyes, her gaze as equally perusing as his. She had an inscrutable expression on her countenance, almost as if she was trying to put a name to a face, though having neither happy nor ill thoughts towards him. Connor flashed her a brilliant smile, then brought his attention back to Smecker.

"Certainly, sir." With a nod and another smirk at Lourdes, Connor gingerly closed the door. As he did, he saw that Murphy was standing beside the entrance of the station, waiting impatiently. Finally catching his eye, Connor motioned for his brother to leave. When Murphy began to speak out of confusion and walk over to him, Connor's eyes widened, placing his index finger frantically upon his lips, trying to simultaneously shut up his brother and not draw any attention to themselves. When Murphy was finally at arm's length, Connor took his brother by the ear, leading him out of the station. "The agent's in there, ye dumb wop! Now shut up 'n leave before she sees ye!"

"Ah shit." Murphy winced in pain as his brother finally set him free. "I got up _this_ early, walked all the way here in the freezin' fuckin' cold, and now I have to go _all_ _the way_ back home by myself?"

As Connor gave Murphy another warning look, he finally held up his hands in silent surrender. After this little exchange between the brothers, Murphy promptly left, making sure that Lourdes would not see him. As he watched his brother walk inconspicuously down the street, Connor breathed out a sigh of relief. _We should've called_, he berated himself mentally.

"You should've called."

Taken aback by Smecker's sudden appearance a few moments later, Connor was shaken from his thoughts. With a tilt of the agent's head, the two strode towards a private area of the station, walking into another empty office.

As the door closed behind them, Connor immediately began, "Look, we had no time to call. We heard of the shootings from Da, and…"

"And that those shootings involved our little Agent in there." Smecker finished succinctly, tilting his head towards his office. "So that must mean the Saints weren't behind that hit?"

"Definitely not!" Connor replied brusquely, adding, "I, personally, wouldn't want to shoot that pretty thing."

Smecker rolled his eyes at the latter comment. "So now that you're 'officially' a new recruit, thanks to your little theatre production back there," he heaved a sigh at the situation, massaging his temples, "the first thing you can do is drive her to the hospital, then to her new hotel."

Connor furrowed his brows at this. "Drive her to the hospital and then her hotel? Don't ye mean I get to work on this case?"

Smecker squinted his eyes, his patience obviously being tested. "What are you on about, MacManus?"

"We weren't behind that hit," Connor reiterated, earning an understanding nod from Paul, "but we do want to know who was. Whoever was out to kill these agents knows who they are and why they're here. Obviously they're affiliated with whoever was against those IRA attacks. So, whoever these sons of bitches are, well, they're now on our hitlist."

"What do you propose to do, then?"

"Da wants more information, so he sent me and Murph to do a little investigating of our own." Connor then motioned his head towards Smecker's office. "Since we all know that Murph can't really do much with her, I'm the one up for the job."

"So what, you're going to play undercover agent with an agent?"

Connor beamed. He snapped his fingers, then pointed at Smecker. "Precisely."

Smecker grumbled, "You're playing with fire, MacManus."

"It's a habit. I've tried to quit, just can't do it."

Smecker heaved a sigh, running his fingers through his wavy, dark-blonde hair. "What do you want out of it?"

"Names, addresses, phone numbers." Connor listed, counting on his fingers. "The more information we have, and the more help we have from her and her team, the better. That's what this station is supposed to be doing in the first place, right? Working together with them?" Connor beamed again, seeing that this brilliant plan was finally taking shape. "So I guess my shit-ass attempt to cover up for why I was here worked out beautifully after all."

Smecker began to understand the Saint's logic. After another few moments of deliberation, Smecker finally replied, "Fine. Just don't make things more complicated than they already are."

vvv

Lourdes had been left alone with her thoughts as Agent Smecker excused himself for a moment. Momentarily setting the memories of the shooting aside, Lourdes' thoughts flickered back to Agent Connolly: Irish agent, handsome…

_Incredibly handsome_, Lourdes mused to herself, despite her situation. She couldn't think of a better distraction at this stressful moment than to admire a good-looking stranger. Though, her instincts told her that she recognized him from somewhere, but at that moment, she just couldn't exactly pinpoint it. Fatigued from her entire ordeal, especially the most recent one, she decided to leave it alone for the time being.

After a few minutes, her thoughts were interrupted as the door creaked open. Looking up, she saw the two men enter once more. Smecker cleared his throat as he sat down on his seat. Connor followed his lead, taking the empty seat beside Lourdes.

"Agent Villamor, let me properly introduce you to Agent Patrick Connolly. I handpicked him to work on this particular case of yours, now that, unfortunately, you do have a case here in Boston. I've told him some of the details that you've recounted to me." Smecker paused, searching for any indication of suspicion or refusal from Lourdes. When he currently received none, and only a nod, he continued, "Now, here is what I propose to do. Since your life as an agent may be in danger, I think it will be best if you lay low, undercover, for a while, until we reach a break in this case."

At this, Lourdes furrowed her brows, protest obviously reaching her lips. Though, Paul put up a hand, motioning that he would continue to explain. "Now, that does not mean that you stop with your own investigations. It only means that in public, you dress appropriately enough that your identity will be hard, even impossible, to distinguish. Your lodgings have already been changed to an undisclosed location to which only you, your agents, I and Agent Connolly will know the location of. Your belongings have already been taken there, including your vehicle, by your agents and me, personally. In other words, you'll fly under the radar, but you will still have your own in use." Smecker placed his hands together, leaning them on the table, finished with his proposition. "This is only a precaution. We will continue to work on the IRA case together. But for the safety of you and your team, I think this is the best solution. What do you think?"

Losing all pretense of formality, Lourdes replied with: "I think these sons of bitches are going down." Finally, she gave the two men a nod of approval. Her comment, though, earned a smirk of amusement from Connor. After a few moments, she continued, "And as for this side-operation, I agree with you. I will be best for the safety of me and my team."

Smecker mentally breathed out a sigh of relief, happy that he bypassed another ensuing headache. He externally grinned widely. "Good. Now that it is all settled, I'll have Agent Connolly drive you to the hospital to see your agent and then to your new hotel."

"Thank you, Agent Smecker." Lourdes gave him a firm handshake as she stood, with Connor following her lead. "I'll be in touch."

"So will I." Connor twisted his head to face Smecker, raising his eyebrows once as he smiled before they exited the room.

vvv

**A/N:** Don't forget to review! I want to know what you all think!


	5. Pieces of the Puzzle

**A/N:** Thank you to IrishSaints and wolfchick11 for reviewing and to you for reading! Enjoy this next bit. More to come soon!

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**Chapter 5: Pieces of the Puzzle**

The silence in the car was comfortable, a great contrast to the busy Boston streets outside. Apparently unbeknownst to Lourdes, Connor had been inconspicuously observing her through the corners of his eyes – her every movement, every action, every inch – ever since they had left Smecker's office and the Boston Police Station. Connor admitted it to himself: he was curious about her; not only about her job, the case that she had been sent to investigate, and the predicament (or danger) that she was currently in, but her own personal life as well. How did a young woman such as she grow up to climb the ranks so quickly to become head of an international investigation? Smecker was most likely twice her age, and even _he_ had to work for years, gaining much experience within the FBI, in order to land important cases such as these. And now, to make matters even _more_ complicated, she was in the middle – a target – of what was most likely a Unionist hit.

All in all, Connor was intrigued.

If the Saint thought that his observations were completely unnoticed, he was mistaken. Lourdes could feel his burning eyes on her, even when she was turned away. To her surprise, she didn't find herself uncomfortable when, truthfully, she unconsciously stole glances at the handsome Irishman from time to time.

"So," Connor piped up lightly with a smirk, thinking it wouldn't do any harm to start some small talk. He never knew – it might be a preface to a highly interesting conversation. As far as he was concerned, this was only an act – and playing a role that would make her talk would be conducive to gaining more information. "How long have ye been an agent for?" He twisted his head to face her momentarily before his eyes flickered back towards the congested road.

The innocent question seemed to have disrupted Lourdes' reverie. She blinked a few times, as if registering the question in her mind, before turning her head towards Connor and replying, "Seven years this May."

"That long?" Her answer clearly surprised the Saint, his eyes widening. "Yer awfully young to have been doing our job for seven years!" Connor commented sincerely, raising his eyebrows. "I, myself, have only been doing it for three in July, and I'm probably older than ye are." It was then that he cleared his throat. "I mean, I know 'tis impolite to ask a woman her age, so I don't think I'm going to go there and stick to my hypothesis of your being younger than I am." He paused, and then quickly corrected himself, "_Much_ younger."

Lourdes actually smiled at this, appreciating his effort to break the ice between them. "I'm twenty-seven and not ashamed to admit it." Connor gave her a lopsided smirk at this confident answer. "And as for the job, I grew up around it." She replied abstractly, obviously not willing to describe any further specific details. Connor decided not to press the subject. As an afterthought, she added sarcastically, "And yeah, you _do_ look pretty old. I'm sure you and my grandfather would make excellent mates."

Connor outwardly chuckled, giving his head a shake. "I guess being older than ye by two years warrants for ye to call me old." As she gave him a smirk, Connor suddenly grew serious, as he found himself being steered away by 'small talk' from his true purpose. Clearing his throat, he began in a stiff tone, "Agent Villamor, if we're going to make any headway on this case, ye have to tell me everything that ye saw that night, any details that ye may remember. If this drive-by shooting of yer agents is somehow connected to the IRA case, then we may as well kill two birds with one stone. I know it sounds wrong to say, but maybe this shooting will give us the lead we need in order to find out who was behind those IRA attacks."

"I understand what you're saying." Lourdes eyed Connor momentarily, lips pursed seriously into a straight line. "Those were my thoughts exactly. I just hope that my agent recovers quickly so that he can participate in the apprehension of those bastards."

Smirking, Connor responded sincerely, "Aye, I'll pray that he does."

As they pulled up beside the sidewalk in front of the hospital, Connor declared, "I'll wait out here until yer finished visiting yer mate. I'll keep a lookout for ye."

With a smile and nod of gratitude, Lourdes exited the car and made her way inside the hospital.

vvv

"So I'm guessing you are both in on what Connor is up to at the moment?" Smecker turned his head in order to face Murphy and Il Duce, who were sitting quietly at their kitchen table, as he languidly paced back and forth in front of them, hands clasped behind his back.

"Well, he's gonna try to get info from the girl." Murphy piped up, giving him a shrug as he looked at his father. "He didn't tell me anythin' else before he told me to fuck off from the station."

"It's more than that now." Smecker gave out an expressive sigh, taking the empty seat in between the MacManus father and son and crossing his legs in the process. "We're in a whole new predicament now." Briefly pausing as he garnered the attention of both men, he proclaimed, "Connor MacManus is now apparently part of the FBI."

In utter disbelief, Murphy gave his father, who remained emotionless and quiet, a bewildered glance. Eyes darting back to Smecker, he retorted with a scoff, "Ye've got to be fuckin' kiddin' me, Smecker! How the hell did he manage _that_?"

"Easier than you may think. He said so in front of Agent Villamor while she was meeting with me, and I confirmed it."

Murphy's face filled with distaste. "Well, fuck me."

"If you'd like." Smecker rejoined sarcastically whilst rolling his eyes. Turning his attention to the older MacManus, he said, "Il Duce, you wanted information, and this is Connor's way of doing it. He's basically playing undercover agent with an agent. I don't know if he's ever done this before, but I advise all of you to take caution. Just pray that he doesn't take it too far and cause more trouble than there already is."

Breaking his stoic silence, Da affirmed, "Connor will be able to handle himself." With a conceding nod from Murphy, he proceeded, "But my sons are not the only ones doing research on our end. I've found out quite a lot during the past week, information that I think ye'll be interested in." When Da saw that he had gained Smecker's undivided attention, he continued, "Now, I am one hundred percent sure that the Unionists were responsible for the IRA attacks and for the attempted murder of the Irish agents. The leader of these extreme Unionists is named Keiran O'Sullivan. Even those that belong to the Unionists see him as the leader of an Irish Mafia within their group. Ye see, as usual, everything comes down to money." Briefly pausing, he eyed his son, then Smecker, alternately. "O'Sullivan earns his living by owning stocks and businesses all over the United Kingdom, most of which are, of course, illegal. He knows that if the Republic is united with the UK once more, he'll have more investments and will gain a huge profit from the exchange rate, as the pound will then again be used in the Republic."

"So why target international members of the IRA?" questioned Smecker as he processed this new information, visibly confused.

"The members that were attacked and killed here in Boston were, once, honest stock holders and businessmen." Da explained, "There was a leak, probably a mole, in O'Sullivan's camp, and word spread to the top IRA man here in Boston of what was really going on. When they found out how O'Sullivan _really_ does business – which is murder each stock holder and gain access to their bank accounts – they began to spread the word within the organization. O'Sullivan found out, and by killing each of 'em, he silenced 'em." Folding his hands in front of him, Da finished, "I've tried to locate where O'Sullivan is, but the bastard covers his tracks very well. But I do know that he's here in Boston."

"And how did you find out this information?" Smecker inquired as he tried to comprehend the utter size and weight of this growing case. "I've never heard of the name, nor any dealings such as this, before."

"A survivor." Da replied simply with a shrug of his shoulder. "Like I said, O'Sullivan knows how to run his businesses and to cover his tracks. We're probably three of the few people here in Boston that knows who he is and what he does."

"Da, how can ye be sure this source of yers is telling the truth?" questioned Murphy, doubt clearly written on his expression. "They could easily be lying to ye, ye know."

"He had no reason to lie. He has more to gain than to lose if we apprehend O'Sullivan." With an actual smirk appearing on the side of his lips, Il Duce remarked effortlessly, "And if he did, he knows that I would track him down and personally blow his brains out."

Smecker tilted his head in complete acquiesce. "Touché."

vvv

Lourdes slowly entered Sean's hospital room, hearing naught but he sound of the heart monitor and the soft flapping of the ceiling fan. With a cursory glance around the stark, pearl-white room, Lourdes made her way to Sean's bedside, finding the agent sleeping peacefully, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic motion. His condition had greatly improved since the last time she had seen him: simultaneously bloodied and pale, his vital signs waning. She had been scared to death then, even showing much emotion in front of her agents, going against her own protocol of remaining calm and collected with every situation, no matter what it was. Though, this situation merited a special award. These people not only knew _who_ they were and what they were doing, but also _where_ they were – all classified information – and it had only been a couple of weeks.

"Is this heaven? Because I think I see an angel."

Sean's strained, raspy voice suddenly sounded, almost startling Lourdes. She shook her head. Even in his condition, the scoundrel still managed to be….well, himself. With a wide smile that reached her eyes, she carefully embraced her comrade, making sure she evaded his stitched and bandaged abdomen. Barely having the strength to lift his arm, Sean grunted as he sluggishly tried to sit up.

"Hey, none of that! That's an order!" berated Lourdes, gently pushing down on his shoulder so that he would lie down once more. "The doctors said that you'll be here for at least two or three more weeks. You were injured quite severely, Flannagan, in critical condition. I don't know if you know that."

"Oh, I don't only know it, I _feel_ it." Sean winced as he tried to find a comfortable position to lie on. For every inch that he moved, no matter which part of his body, relentless pain coursed through him, causing him to breathe out and grit his teeth. Entirely disregarding this, he proclaimed proudly. "But they don't call us the fightin' Irish for nothin'. It'll take more than a bullet or two to get rid o' me."

"Ye know, Flannagan, 'tis yer bloody pride that'll get ye killed someday!"

The two twisted their heads to the sound of Isolde's semi-mirthful, semi-scolding voice towards the doorway, where she and the other two members of their team, Agent Craig Malley and Agent Braden Falkland, stood side by side. With a cordial smile, Lourdes welcomed her entire team, finally together at last. Frankly, she was relieved to see them all safe and alive. Lourdes knew the protocol that they all had to follow about privacy and public emotion, so without really knowing what was personally going on with her agents, she just prayed that they were not dealing with trauma.

"So…what are we gonna do about our hitmen?" Breaking the comfortable silence between the five, Braden placed his hands in his trouser pockets. Walking towards the middle of the room, he remarked, "I never thought that _I'd_ be a target. It's makin' me kinda paranoid now."

"Tell me about it," Craig agreed with a scoff, face scrunching with distaste. "I've looked over me shoulder so many times that ye'd think I had an invisible plug stuck up me arse."

"I'm sorry to tell ye this, Malley," Sean began in utter seriousness, pressing his lips into a thin line, "but ye _do_ have an invisible plug stuck up yer arse. Ye just can't see it, because, well, it's _invisible_."

"Shut the fuck up, Flannagan!"

"Alright, that's enough, ye two!" chastised Isolde as though she were breaking off the banter between two little boys. Through Sean's booming laughter, she proclaimed, "We've done enough shittin' around today. Smecker just called me about our new hotel. We should ahead back and start investigatin' on who these bastards are." In both amusement and relief, she disheveled Sean's hair before turning her attention to Lourdes. "Boss, you comin' with us?"

"I will catch up with you all in a bit." Giving the three a salutary wave as they left the room, Lourdes turned her attention back to Sean. Without a word, her face suddenly grew serious as the complete silence in the room returned.

"I know that look." Sean commented with ease, raising an eyebrow. "What've ye got on yer mind, _leannán_?"

"I just feel out of sorts, is all." Lourdes answered truthfully, always finding herself able to confide in the fiery Irishman. Having worked with Sean for almost three years, much longer than any of the other agents on the team, they had not only built a strong, professional relationship, but had become very close friends as well. Through all the trials and tribulations that Lourdes had undergone, brought about by a difficult job, she could always trust Sean with confidence, knowing that if she needed someone to turn to, that he would be there in the blink of an eye. He had especially helped her recover from the loss of Colin.

Colin McDougall, Lourdes' most recent boyfriend, had been shot and killed in action just a few months prior to their landing in Boston. He had been a fellow agent, tracking down murder suspects hiding out in Northern Ireland. In a stake gone wrong, his cover had been blown, and the killers opened fire, killing him instantly. Lourdes had not witnessed his fall, though heard the shots being fired, for she was in a vehicle only a few meters away. This was the reason why she was so unnerved by everything that had happened to Sean. She did not want to repeat the emotional suffering she had gone through not so long ago, and most of all, she did not want to lose someone else that she cared about.

"My instincts are going haywire, Sean, and I can't put my finger on why. I just feel like danger's so close by, but I just can't see it yet."

"I know what ye mean." He replied succinctly with the tilt of his head. Squinting his eyes, he shook his head slowly. "Somethin' 'bout that hit just didn't seem…right."

After a brief, thoughtful silence, Lourdes declared in a lighter tone, "Let me worry about the cases for now," she managed a slight smile, taking into consideration what Sean had said. "You concentrate on recovering, alright?"

Though before she could turn and leave, Sean grasped her arm, pulling her closer towards him. With a curious look from Lourdes, he said in a cryptic manner, his expression cold,

"Don't trust anyone."

vvv

**Translation:**

leannán: sweetheart

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**A/N:** What'd you guys think? Keep the reviews coming, I'm loving them! xx


	6. Inquisition

**A/N: **Thank you to icydragon14 for reviewing and to you for reading! Enjoy this next one.

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**Chapter 6: Inquisition**

Lourdes stared blankly at the humming laptop before her. Scattered around her lap, desk and floor were papers and papers of photocopied, printed and cut articles, interviews and classified reports. She continuously surrounded herself with anything and anyone that could give her valuable information, but even after three weeks in total now, she still came up with only high suspicion, but never any concrete evidence with which she could confidently point a finger at a specific killer. She had to admit, though, that Agent Connolly had been of great help to her during this investigation of both the IRA case and her own personal one, retrieving DNA results and other research that she desperately needed if she wanted to make any headway on the cases. Though he did prove to be more help than a hindrance, Lourdes still felt as though she was stuck.

"_Pourquoi moi_?" she asked herself in French, exhibiting her frustrations. Gazing up towards the ceiling, she searched for any sign of divine intervention, as she often prayed for. "_Il y a beaucoup d'autres personnes qui peuvent le faire. Et maintenant, c'est moi qui doit faire attention ? Incroyable !_ "

"_Peut-__être c'est seulement toi qui peut résoudre le crime_. "

Rightly swirling from her chair, Lourdes was a bit startled by Connor's sudden and unannounced presence. As he entered her room with a knock, coffees in hand, she continued to stare at him in bewilderment. What surprised her even more than his appearance was that he had not only heard her, but had understood her as well.

"Thank you." Lourdes threw him a sweet smile as he handed her the cup of coffee, along with a folder with his new research. As he smiled at her in return while simultaneously plopping down on her bed, she inquired curiously, "Agent Connolly, do you speak any other languages?"

He merely nodded, the pleased expression on his face not swaying.

Lourdes cocked an eyebrow, as if waiting to be impressed."Spanish? Italian? German? Gaelic?"

His smirk widened with every language that she had listed. "Aye."

"_¿Cómo sabes hablar tan muchas idiomas_?" she questioned him with a cocked brow in perfect Spanish, as if testing him.

"_Weil meine Mutter auf es bestand_." Connor met her challenge easily, replying in smooth German. He inwardly chuckled as he recognized a glimmer of admiration in her brown orbs. "_E voi, come conoscete tante lingue_?"

"_Mo athair seas ar phointe_."

"Guess we have something in common." Connor actually smiled at this revelation, highly impressed by her lingual intelligence. For the past week that he had begun to 'work' with her, he couldn't help but take a natural liking to the woman. Her intelligence, wit and humour made his task less tedious, finding himself highly amused and intrigued from time to time. Although he continued with his façade, he felt as though a friendship was actually forming between the two of them. _Just keep yer wits about ye_, he constantly chided himself, especially when he found himself alone with her, just as this moment. _If ye get too close to the fire ye'll get burnt_.

As if on cue with his thoughts, Lourdes flipped through her notebook, skimming down her scribbled notes as she suddenly questioned, "What do you know of the Saints of Southern Boston?"

Connor's heart inwardly leapt at her unexpected interrogation. Attempting to clear his face of any expression that would betray his true emotions, he replied with a stoic face, "That they assassinated mob syndicates and men of scum all over Boston, and that Agent Smecker headed the investigation for months."

"He's still in charge of that investigation, and the Saints are still out on the loose." She recounted her research, almost bitterly, in Connor's opinion. "I still do not know who they are," Connor inwardly released a breath at this, "but I am gathering more and more evidence that would lead me to believe that the Saints were behind that IRA attack and, of course, our attack."

In an effort to halt himself from sputtering into chokes, Connor widened his eyes and scoffed, "Ye don't _really_ believe that, do ye? The Saints only kill the bad guys. They would never point their guns towards good Agents, nor women, for that matter. I mean, not that I agree with their vigilante ways, but…" In an attempt to deter her from digging more about him and his family, Connor pointed out coolly, "I've spoken with some of yer team, Agent O'Callaghan and Agent Falkland, and they seem to agree on my find that Unionists were behind these attacks."

"You have no proof of that," Lourdes interjected, furrowing her brows.

"Then I'll find some." rejoined Connor, though smiling now. He pointed out, "Look how much information we've recovered in just a week. This whole thing will blow over in no time."

"We do make a good team." Lourdes admitted succinctly in a lighter tone, fixing the papers that she held in her hands.

"Aye, that we do." Connor gave her another beguiling smirk, which, Lourdes had learnt quickly, was one of his most common and, yes, _appealing_, characteristics. He leaned in closer to her, elbows resting on his knees, hands loose in between his legs. He said in almost a whisper, "Before I take my leave, is there anything else ye need…or want?"

A cold shiver ran through Lourdes' spine, recognizing the flirtatious glint in the Irishman's blue eyes. Granted, she has grown accustomed to Sean's naturally flirtatious ways and good-natured advances, though _this_ man was an entirely different case. He had an aura of such strength and _sensuality_ about him that it made her heart jump to even think about him. It was only her strong will, self-control, and years of training with the Irish Forces that helped her keep her composure in his presence. The latter characteristics were definitely of great use to her now, for she felt another shiver run through her body as he stood up in front of her, still wearing his famous smirk. Running her eyes through the length of him, she found his sight incredibly pleasing: the dark-blonde hair mussed into haphazard spikes as though he had just woken out of bed; dark-green polo shirt, the top three buttons left open, exposing a strong chest; the beautiful rosary that he wore around his neck, running down the middle of his torso, resting on his hard abdomen; and his eyes – oh, those eyes – now a shade of dark-blue as he peered down towards her intently.

As she stood up, intending to lead him towards the door, Lourdes croaked out quietly, "No, Agent Connolly, I'm fine for now, thank you." _What _is_ it about this man that has me practically _panting_ for him_?, she berated herself mentally, annoyed by the fact that she was letting a practical stranger affect her like so. _Keep your wits about yourself, Villamor…you might be playing with fire_.

Connor could notice her discomfort from miles away, and feeling a little guilty for making her uncomfortable for the sake of his own pleasure, he widened the space in between them by taking a step back towards the door. "Alright. Ye know I'm here if ye do."

Before Connor stepped outside, he exchanged another glance and smile with Lourdes. Closing the door softly behind him, he chuckled to himself.

_This could be fun_.

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Murphy waited impatiently on his father's couch, leg ticking, mimicking the clock that chimed lightly above him. Il Duce merely sat on his rocking chair in silence, barely showing on his countenance any sign of the identical impatience that he felt. It was past two o'clock in the morning, and the agreement amongst the MacManus family had been to meet at Da's place by midnight. But Connor, as of yet, was nowhere to be found.

Just as Murphy bolted from his seat with a growl of annoyance, the lock of the front door clicked open. After a few moments, Connor stepped inside lightly, his mouth pulled into a smirk of amusement as he entered. Languidly closing the door and looking up, he immediately noticed the disapproving look from his father. He asked simply, "What?"

Out of nowhere, a pack of cigarettes flew from his left, hitting Connor right on his cheek. Before he had time to recover from the sudden and quite unexpected missile, Murphy quickly appeared by his side, picking up the pack of cigarettes, thrusting them hastily into his pockets, then proceeding to give his twin a shove. "Where the fuck were ye?" he boomed in utter distemper, face wrinkled with it. "Ye were supposed to be here two fuckin' hours ago! Those sons of bitches might be gone by now!"

All signs of irritation left Connor's expression, only to be replaced by a wince. "Oh fuck, the Yakavetta supporter hit!" He mentally berated his own careless forgetfulness. He groaned, "I thought that was tomorrow night."

"Yer such a fuckin' idiot, Con!" Murphy barked furiously as his father joined their side. "Why don't ye concentrate on yer _real_ job instead of pretendin' to be a fuckin' FBI agent?"

"Fuck off Murph, ye know I'm doin' all of this investigatin' bullshit for all of us." Connor defended, though not making any excuses for his mistake. He proclaimed, arm held outwards, "These cases are our business too, ye know. Ye gotta realize that. These Unionists are on our hitlist."

"Bah." Murphy gave his brother a flippant gesture as he strode back unceremoniously into the living room.

Connor's eyes then met his father's. To try and avoid further reprimand, he quickly blurted, "Look, Da, I'm really sorry for forgettin'. I lose all sense of time when I'm workin' on the IRA case." When his father did not respond at all, Connor tried again in a hopeful tone, "I feel like I'm gettin' somewhere, gettin' closer to the information that we need so that we can identify the bastards. Ye gotta know that at the same time, I gotta get these agents off my back – our backs. If we're gonna continue to make these hits under heightened radar then we gotta do it carefully."

Il Duce paused momentarily to consider his son's reasoning. Understanding their present predicament, he scolded him simply. "Just remember yer responsibilities. Ye can't let yer charade get in the way of your real duties."

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Lourdes forced herself, through her growing fatigue, to continue her investigation. Having had the time to finally organize her research, Lourdes collected a pile of newspaper clippings with two hands and dropped them onto her bed. With a sigh, she sat down beside them, methodically looking through the clippings. As she picked up a random article, a name caught her eye. The sentence had read: _Two members of the Russian mob were found dead yesterday morning in an alley not far from the popular club, Cu Cuchulainn, and the neighbourhood pub, McGuinty's._

"McGuinty's?" Lourdes repeated to herself out loud, eyebrows furrowing at the familiarity of the name. In an instant, a surge of memories flashed through her mind, remembering the last time that she had visited the local pub: or, in her opinion, the potential meeting place for gangland members. It was near where she had bumped into a man, who, after spilling his belongings on the snow-covered sidewalk, was carrying newspaper clippings of articles dealing with the mob and, to her high suspicion, guns along with the bullets.

Not being able to take anymore of her nagging instincts nor the confines of her hotel room, she decided to execute some _practical_ investigation. Tying her hair in a ponytail, she shoved her hair underneath a forest green army hat. Next, she placed on a dark green scarf and a long, black winter coat. Making sure that her disguise was inconspicuous enough, she took one last look at the mirror and bolted out of her hotel room.

Jumping into her Camaro, she made her way towards the Irish part of Boston. She had no recollection as to what street the pub was on, but she would not rest until she had found it. After about a few minutes of zigzagging through streets and driving through familiar roads, a large sign welcomed her at her destination. Relieved that she had found the pub in less than thirty minutes, she found a parking spot just perpendicular to the street where the pub was situated. Looking over at the entrance, she didn't see anyone standing in front of the door, nor feel that anything was amiss. Thinking it was safe for her to make her way inside, she stepped out of the car. Just as she turned to face the entrance of the pub, a familiar face appeared.

Lourdes was just about to call out Connor's false name when another man that she recognized followed him outside. Squinting her eyes in confusion, she identified the second man to be the one whom she had bumped into, coincidentally enough, right where she was standing, just a few weeks prior. Placing her head down so that the front of her hat could cover her face, she watched from the corner of her eye as the two hopped into a nearby car, mirthfully whistling Irish tunes.

Disregarding at the moment that Connor planned to drive while intoxicated, she wondered, with much discomfort, what he was doing with a man whom she suspected to be a mob criminal. Confused, she merely stood beside her car in silence, quietly watching as Connor's car disappeared into the night.

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**Translations**

 Pourquoi moi?: **"Why me?"** (From French)

Il y a beaucoup d'autres personnes qui peuvent le faire. Et maintenant, c'est moi qui doit faire attention ? Incroyable : **"There are many other people who can do it. And now, I'm the one who has to be careful? Incredible!"** (From French)

Peut-être c'est seulement toi qui peut résoudre le crime.: **"Maybe it's only you that can solve the crime."** (From French)

¿Cómo sabes hablar tan muchas idiomas?:** "How do you know how to speak so many languages?"** (From Spanish)

Weil meine Mutter auf es bestand.: **"Because my mother insisted upon it."** (From German)

E voi, come conoscete tante lingue?: **"And you, how do you know so many languages?"** (From Italian)

Mo athair seas ar phointe.: **"My father insisted on it." **(From Gaelic)

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**A/N:** Did you guys like that? Let me know and review! xx


	7. Secrets

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Thank you to IrishSaints, Jade Opal and icydragon14 for reviewing and to all of you that are reading right now. I'm glad you are enjoying the story! It will only get better and better, I promise!

I made an **OC CHARACTER COLLAGE** for this fic, and I am very pleased with it. (I especially like Sean Flannagan's picture: it was almost _exactly_ how I pictured him to be!) The link to the collage is located on my profile since I can't put direct links here. What is this collage, you ask? It's basically a pictorial list of the OC characters in my story! I will update new characters as the story goes along, but for now, these are the main OC's. I hope it will help with how you picture the characters when you read about them. It really helps when I'm writing! Let me know what you think of it, too! xx

Now, onto the story!

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**Chapter 7: Secrets**

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_**"Same Direction"**_

_**By: Hoobastank**_

_Whenever I step outside, somebody claims to see the light_

_It seems to me that all of us have lost our patience._

_'Cause everyone thinks they're right_

_And nobody thinks that there just might_

_Be more than one road to our final destination._

_But I'm not ever gonna know if I'm right or wrong_

_'Cause we're all going in the same direction_

_And I'm not sure which way to go_

_Because all along_

_We've been going in the same direction_

_I'm tired of playing games, of looking for someone else to blame_

_For all the holes in answers that are clearly showing_

_For something to fill the space, was all of the time I spent a waste_

_'Cause so many choices point the same way I was going_

_So why does there only have to be one correct philosophy?_

_I don't want to go and follow you just go end up like one of them_

_And why are you always telling me what you want me to believe?_

_I'd like to think that I can go my own way and meet you in the end._

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"I'm hungry."

"Then go make yerself some food."

"Don't wanna. Do it for me, Con. And make it snappy."

"Fuck ye, ye lazy womp."

Connor and Murphy droned like so side by side, flopped upon the black leather couch in the smoke-filled living room. With their heads hanging loosely about their necks and limbs haphazardly sprawled everywhere, their glazed eyes remained glued to the television in front of them. From time to time, they would take sips of their bottled beer, take drags of their cigarettes and languidly scratch their stomachs. Since their current mission was put on hold until their father returned home, the twins thought that this was the _perfect_ way to spend their time while they waited.

Murphy leisurely flipped through the channels one by one, grunting and rolling his eyes every time a soap opera would appear on the screen – which, to his utter annoyance, seemed to be every second channel. "_Ooh, I love ye, Fernando, marry me!_" he mocked with an extremely effeminate voice, with much distaste and disgust lining his tone and expression. With drama skills that would impress even the Queen, he began to hug himself. "_I've loved ye from the moment I saw ye. I wanna love ye foreeever and eeever!_" His mockery disappeared as quickly as it had come, and with a growl, he returned back to his normal Murphy self. "Fuckin' soap operas. I hate these shows."

In a laggardly manner, Connor twisted his head to face his brother. With an eyebrow raised and pursed lips, he stated, "Ye see, _this_ is why you can't get another girlfriend."

With a silent, dismissive gesture from his twin, Connor rolled his eyes, reaching for the remote control. As if upon reflex, Murphy held it away, placing it high above his head. "I'm watchin' that."

"Ye just said ye hated these shows!" Connor tried another lunge at the remote, but was foiled once more as Murphy jerked it away from his grasp. "Gimme it!"

"Never said I wasn't watchin' it. And ye didn't say please." countered Murphy, still holding the blasted remote above his head while his eyes peered towards the television. With a gasp, he proclaimed, "Ooh, Bernard is going to propose to Cassandra! Look, Con!"

With a snarl, Connor rightly launched himself at his brother, holding his arm steady in order to snatch at the remote once more. Murphy tried his best to evade him as he sat on the couch, gripping the remote as tightly as he could. When Connor continued to struggle with him, Murphy held out his free hand, pushing at Connor's face. With an irritated grunt, Connor managed to twist his face out of Murphy's hand's way and…

"Ow, ye fuckin' bit me!" Murphy yelped, more in surprise than pain, as Connor pursued with his mission. Taking the collar of his black t-shirt, Murphy pulled his brother with all his might, sending them both to the ground with a huge thud. With grunts and curses, they began to fight and roll at the same time, hitting the coffee table, couch, and various other furniture within the room. In their struggle, objects broke around them, making a right mess out of the living room in only a few seconds.

"Give me the fuckin' remote!" Connor boomed as he gained the upper hand. Gritting his teeth, he pinned his brother down by his shoulders. Then, moving quickly behind him, Connor pulled his brother up, trapping his head in a tight headlock. As Murphy struggled and flailed his arms, Connor barked, "Murphy, ye bastard, I said…"

Connor wasn't able to finish his sentence. With a swing of his arm, Murphy's hand, which _still_ held the remote, connected with Connor's forehead. As he bellowed and cursed in pain, he shoved Murphy's arm away, sending the remote flying towards the other side of the room. Twisting their heads, the two men followed the projectile's path, which ended…

…right in front of their father.

The twins eyed his black boots with a wince, then brought their gazes higher and higher until they saw his face. Il Duce stood stick straight, hands crossed in front of him. Taking another cursory glance at the wreckage that was now his living room, his blazing eyes landed on his sons. Face stone firm, he demanded in a sharp tone, "What the fuck is goin' on here?"

The room became so silent that crickets could be heard. Very loudly.

"Erm…" Murphy began, slowly pushing himself up from the ground. "We were…uh…"

"Redecorating." Connor offered as he stood, simultaneously brushing the dust off of his clothing. With this statement, he subsequently received an elbow in the stomach from his brother.

Obviously unimpressed by their response, they saw their father's lips curl into a snarl. "We're not goin' on that hit tomorrow until ye boys clean this shit up, ye hear me?"

Murphy's eyes widened in disbelief. "But Da…"

It was Connor's turn to shove his brother in annoyance. Through clenched teeth, he simply snapped, "Just shut the fuck up and clean!"

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"Ye gotta love that gun dealer."

"He's gotta love us. We're his best customers."

It was another chilly night in Boston as the brothers drove home, having been well supplied with weapons for the pending Yakavetta supporter hit. Thanks to their father and his connections, their stock of guns, knives, and rope (for Connor) were plentiful this time around, almost bursting out from their trunk and spilling over the backseat. Now they were finally satisfied with their goods to begin their actual preparations for the hit.

Murphy sat contentedly in the passenger's seat, examining his new Desert Eagle .50 with a smile comparable to a kid's in a candy store. One at a time, he would regularly fish at another weapon lying on the backseat, tongue in between his teeth as he grinned. His brother, on the other hand, didn't share his excitement. Connor tried his best to concentrate on the busy road ahead of him, but his mind was plagued with other thoughts. As if reading his mind, Murphy inquired, "What ye thinkin' 'bout? Ye look like ye just came back from a funeral instead of a weapon depot!"

Breathing out sharply, Connor glanced at his brother, and then turned his eyes back to the road. "Murph, I don't know how long I can keep up with this charade. We're making leads and shit, gettin' closer to findin' the bastards, but I just can't keep pretendin' to be a fuckin' agent anymore."

"It's been two fuckin' weeks for ye, Con!" Murphy snorted, looking at his brother as though he were daft. "Smecker's been doin' it for like twenty. Try to imagine yerself in _his_ shoes."

"He ain't playin' a fuckin' role, Murph." Clearing his throat, Connor uncomfortably admitted in a low tone, "I just can't keep lyin' to Lourdes. She thinks I'm like a fuckin'…saint."

Murphy scoffed at the unintended pun, giving his brother a slap on the shoulder. "Hey, at least she doesn't think yer a fuckin' suspect in a fuckin' hit we didn't even do!" He rolled his eyes, letting out a breath exasperatedly. "The _least_ she could do is give me credit for something that I _did_ do. Like that hit I did on my own last month." A smile appeared on Murphy's face, leaning his head back on the headrest in bemused recollection. "Now _that_ shit was _brilliant_."

"It's more than that, Murph." With a shake of his head, Connor's tone suddenly changed, his voice becoming audibly softer. "I'm startin' to get…attached….to her, or some shit like that. The more time I spend with her, the more I get to know her. Not the agent side of her, but more than that. The _real_ her, ya know? And there are just some things about her life that I feel like I can relate to…"

"Oh fuck. Someone's goin' on Oprah."

Connor shot his brother a wary look. "Look, it's not like I'm fallin' in love with her or anythin', it's nothin' like that…"

"Oh, so ye just want to 'get to know her' better, aye?" Murphy nudged him with his elbow, raising his eyebrows repeatedly. He then pursed his lips in question. "Wait, so that means you _still_ haven't had sex with her?"

"I'm serious, Murph!" Connor snarled, giving his brother a shove. He shifted through his emotions, trying to find out exactly how to explain them. "It's not as easy as it seems. It's just that…I know I'll give a shit if something actually happens to her, ya know? Kinda like how I would care if we had a sister. She's a good person, and she doesn't deserve the shit that she's been goin' through."

"Well, givin' a shit about someone is good, bro." Murphy gave a shrug, breathing out. "But ye gotta remember what's at stake here and what yer doin'. Hate to break it to ye, Con, but ye two _aren't_ friends, as much as ye'd like to believe it. Ye barely know her and her lot of agents."

"Aye, I've thought about all that." Connor retaliated quickly, feeling his defenses rise. "I just feel like something's up, somethin' 'bout her agents…"

"Well, that's the lesson for ye. Ye shouldn't quickly trust these agents, any of 'em," Murphy twisted his head face his brother, "…no matter how pretty they may be."

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As Lourdes drove home from another long day, she contemplated about her meeting with Smecker. To her confusion, she found that his mannerisms became quite unusual when she spoke of the Saints. With regards to that, she suspected that it was merely because he was the head of that investigation and that, even after a year, the Saints were still on the loose. She couldn't even fathom the shit that Smecker has probably been given for his unsuccessful attempts to apprehend them, especially when they continued their killing spree. Though, when she began to question 'Patrick Connolly's' background and track record, Smecker rightly tensed, as much as he had tried to conceal it. Her natural instincts were well in tune, so much so that she could almost see the beads of sweat, brought about by nervousness, forming upon Smecker's forehead.

"I chose him specifically for this case, especially since he's been only working for a short while." He had said simply, folding his hands in front of him.

"For a while?" Lourdes raised an eyebrow, her suspicions getting the best of her, "How long would that be, exactly?"

"Just a little over a year." Smecker had answered vaguely, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

_And Agent Connolly had said he had been on the force for three years_, she recounted to herself, becoming even more unnerved by this information. _Maybe he had only been working in Boston for a year. Is that what he had meant?_

Before she could contemplate this any further, flashing headlights appeared suddenly to her right, catching her off guard. With her quick reflexes, she steered out of the car's way just in time, before it sped off further into the night in hazardous zigzags. Instantly pumping her brakes, her car came into an abrupt stop, just before it came dangerously close to hitting a lamppost. As she recovered from the near collision, muffled noises came from the dark alleyway to her right side. Seeing that the lamp-lit streets were deserted, her defenses were on high, immediately going for the gun in her holster. Feeling that it was safer to remain in her car, she kept silent, sinking deeper into her seat as she heard,

"_And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee_

_Power hath descended forth from Thy hand_

_That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command._

_So we shall flow a river forth to thee_

_And teeming with souls shall it ever be._

_In Nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti._"

The sound of silencers followed, making Lourdes jump on her seat. Her instincts heightened, she crept out of her car, keeping her back close to the vehicle as she twisted her head to face the alleyway. She could make out three figures within, huddling over the body as they placed something upon the victim's face. Seeing that they were preoccupied, Lourdes quickly grabbed her CV radio and hastily whispered for backup. As she turned around, she saw the three killers walk away, disappearing deeper into the alleyway. Finding that she couldn't just let them leave, she appeared from behind her vehicle, holding her gun straight in front of her as she shouted, "Freeze!"

With her command instantly gaining their attention, the trio turned simultaneously, guns drawn. Lourdes swallowed, using all her courage to keep her weapon pointed at them. Remaining behind her vehicle, she cried, "Drop your weapons now!"

She didn't think for a second that they would listen to her. Though, to her surprise and utter relief, the figure on the far right lowered his gun, and then motioned for the other two to do the same. As the three backed away, the figure furthest from her left kept his gun up, though not directly pointing at her. Before she could react, they disappeared into the adjacent alleyway, with rosaries swaying furiously in front of them.

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**A/N:** So, what'd you think about that? Don't forget to check out the **OC CHARACTER COLLAGE** link! It's on my profile once again. xx Till next time!


	8. False Pretense

**A/N**: Thank you to GoddessLaughs and wolfchick11 for reviewing. I hope everyone is enjoying the story thus far! Now comes my biggest update, since I'm not sure if I can update for a while. But I hope you guys enjoy this one. Don't forget to review! I want to know what you think.

Also, If you haven't already done so, check out my **OC CHARACTER COLLAGE** for this story. The link is on my profile. Tell me what you think of that, too! xx

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**Chapter 8: False Pretense**

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_**"False Pretense"**_

_**By: The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus**_

_Oh, it's time to let it go_

_The world's got a funny way of turning 'round on you  
When a friend tries to stab you right in the face  
Losing faith in everything I thought I hoped I knew  
Don't sweat it, it was set on false pretense_

_Betrayed but not gonna be willing to change  
And it doesn't seem likely to fade  
Betrayed but not gonna be willing to change  
Cause you know._

_It's sacrifice  
False pretense you'll hurt again  
Stop pretending to deny  
False pretense you'll hurt again_

_All along you know you thought you got the best of me  
But you were wrong and I'm laughing right in your face  
I cannot believe you claimed you were my family  
Don't sweat it - it's set on false pretense_

_I can't seem to understand it how you turned out to be so cold  
You tried but were caught red handed, are you happy with your role?  
It's funny to me how you've turned into such a joke_

_So play the game until you run out  
And play the game into my hand_

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"…and then they just dropped their guns and left."

Lourdes had completed narrating her entire encounter with the Saints to her fellow agent as they lounged about in her hotel room, taking an essential break from their investigation. It seemed as though every gear in Lourdes' brain was rusting, wearing down, was in need of replacement. Tired, aching and weary, the two were overcome with relentless fatigue, their mental journey over the past two weeks finally taking its toll not only emotionally, but physically as well.

With an unflinching gaze plastered on her face, Isolde sat across from Lourdes, completely captivated by her tale. As she leant back on her chair, Isolde responsed, "This was just two days ago, aye?" Receiving a concurring nod from Lourdes, she then offered, "I may be wrong about this, boss, but maybe this killing is connected to the Unionist attacks. Maybe it was that next attack that they had been planning."

The thought had crossed Lourdes' mind, even before the crime had been committed. Though, after a few moments of silence, Lourdes shook her head in certain doubt, wincing as she did so. "I don't know, Isolde. It's difficult to say, because the victim had no ties to the IRA whatsoever. He was part of the Italian mob."

"Hey," A sympathetic smile appeared on Isolde's face. Placing a comforting hand on Lourdes' shoulder, she lightly squeezed it as she declared, "let's not think about it for now, alright? Give yerself a break. Ye deserve it, Lourdes."

God was certainly smiling upon them as he heard their conversation. As if on cue, several knocks on the door sounded, gaining their attention. With a light 'come in' from Lourdes, Connor carefully popped his head in, careful not to have interrupted anything as he gave the two women a dashing smile that reached his eyes.

"It's Valentine's Day, Agent Connolly." Isolde greeted the handsome Irishman perkily, a mischievous smile appearing on her face. She ensued to survey his hands, though in a mocking fashion. Quirking a brow, she questioned, "Howcome we don't see any flowers? Chocolates?"

"Flowers? Chocolates?" Connor repeated, almost incredulously, as he raised an eyebrow in return. He quickly recovered from her 'interrogation', answering, "I was thinkin' more along the lines of treatin' ye ladies to some pints. Ye can't really do much with flowers and chocolates, now can ye? A handful of pints will do the mind, body and spirit more good, aye?"

"Now see," Isolde wagged her finger in Connor's direction, a wide grin molded on her face at his statements, "that's how a _real_ man thinks."

"Nicely put. Couldn't agree with you more." Replied Lourdes with a warm smile, giving Connor a quick once-over. He was attired in all black, a white tie loosely hanging from his neck. A white belt wrapped around his lower waist, his polo shirt half tucked in. A few buttons were undone from his shirt, though in its entirety, the outfit still exhibited much class and taste. As she prepared to leave, Lourdes kept her eyes on Connor, who stood right outside of the doorway, hands in pockets, waiting for her to follow. Flicking off her lights and subsequently locking the door behind her, she fell into step with him as they walked towards the parking lot.

The cool, crisp Boston air greeted their faces as they languidly walked towards Connor's car. The velvet sky was clear, thousands of diamonds almost visible within. It certainly suited the romantic mood the day was supposed to bring. Up ahead, Lourdes and Connor perceived Isolde stepping into a car with the two other agents, Craig Malley and Braden Falkland. Upon seeing this, Connor eyed Lourdes expectantly, but she consciously made no move to follow suit. Understanding her instantly, Connor opened the door of his car for her, receiving a breathless 'thank you' and a smirk in return.

Hopping into the car, Connor looked to which direction the agents were headed. Habitually observing his surroundings as he started his engine, he was relieved to find that nothing seemed to be amiss. Satisfied for now, he began to pull out of the parking lot, closely following the car-full of agents in front of him. Glancing at Lourdes from the corner of his eye, he lightly asked in curiosity, "Didn't make any plans with the boyfriend…or husband…," he quickly added as an afterthought, "…tonight?"

Back stiffening at this seemingly innocent question, Lourdes immediately shook her head. "With my job, romantic relationships are non-existent." This was only half true. What she purposely failed to mention was, of course, the story of her most recent boyfriend, Colin McDougall.

"I will not believe that someone such as yerself is single. Even if ye've been here in Boston for a short while, I would think that ye would've had someone already." Connor admitted truthfully, smiling eyes landing upon Lourdes once more.

"And what about you, Agent Connolly?" Lourdes piped up herself, trying her best to brush off his latter comments, "shouldn't _you_ be with your girlfriend…or wife?"

"_Girlfriends_." Connor corrected and reiterated, his face almost looking insulted at her 'insinuation'. "Ye see, I have a complicated schedule with each of them. But the most recent one, I forget her name, I've scheduled to meet with her at midnight."

Lourdes didn't know whether to take him seriously or not, for his face did not reveal any sign of jest. As she looked away, seemingly disturbed at his statements, Connor let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. "I was merely kiddin'." He paused briefly, and then with a shrug, "Let's just say my job doesn't allow for serious relationships either. I've tried, mind ye, but they just never seem to work out in the end. A lot of things get in the way."

"Maybe you should find yourself another job, Agent Connolly." Lourdes suggested in mock seriousness.

"Maybe ye should too." He countered light-heartedly.

After a moment of complete silence, the two burst out into laughter. Catching their breaths, they remained in comfortable silence as they admired the sea of lighted buildings outside. Lourdes peeked her head outside of the window as they drove over a bridge. She was sincerely breath-taken by Boston's beauty at nighttime, the sparkle of skyscrapers and its reflection upon the harbour making the city look almost magical.

Connor smiled at her awe, for she resembled a child. Though, as he looked ahead, he stiffened at the sight of their destination. Seeing that the agents had pulled up beside McGuinty's, he instantly prayed to God that Murphy wasn't in there tonight. Trying to act as naturally as possible as they exited the car, Connor placed a hand upon Lourdes' lower back, ushering her inside the busy establishment. As they entered, his eyes instantly darted around the crowded pub, looking for any sign of his brother. Excusing himself politely from Lourdes and the other agents, he strode purposely towards the bar, heading straight for Doc.

"Doc, is Murph here?" He questioned quietly as he reached the bar, eyes a dark shade of blue.

"N-no, boy," To Connor's great relief, the bar owner shook his head several time, "h-he left j-just a few hours a-ago…fuck! Ass!"

"Well, in that case," Connor's playful smirk returned, placing a bill upon the table, "three pints of Guinness, if ye will."

Near the back of the establishment, Lourdes and her team had taken up an entire booth, the one furthest away from the bar. They were all in good spirits, bobbing their heads to the Irish folk band that played merrily on the adjacent stage. Connor returned briefly, pint glasses in hand, sliding one to Lourdes and the other to Isolde. "That'll be the first of many." He remarked, earning a jovial laugh from the group.

As the night went on, pints continued to disappear down their throats. Empty glasses were hastily cleared away by the waitresses as even more pints were placed upon their table. Tenth pint down, along comes the eleventh. _Now_ they all seemed to be having a good time.

Slyly slinking an arm around Lourdes' shoulder, Connor leaned his lips closer to her ear as he whispered, "How about a dance?"

Lourdes involuntarily shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on her neck. As she twisted her head to gaze upwards at him, she realized that their faces were mere inches apart. Flicking her eyes upwards to his in a flirtatious manner, their gazes met. Moving her face closer to his as if in motion to kiss him, she replied in a husky manner, "I'd love to."

Taking her hand in his, Connor lithely led Lourdes to the wood-covered floor in front of the band. To the upbeat traditional Irish music, the two began to do an Irish jig, much to the amusement of their comrades. Connor was impressed with Lourdes' skill, wondering how she had learned to dance like so. He admitted that he did struggle to keep up, but he had managed to do so, thankfully, clasping her hand in his as they hopped, kicked and bounced. Seeing how much fun the two were having, the rest of the agents had stood up after a while, joining Lourdes and Connor on the dance floor.

"I can't say I can remember the last time I did this!" Lourdes laughed mirthfully like a child as she kicked her legs forwards and backwards, twisting her body from side to side.

"Neither can I!" Connor couldn't believe that he was actually _jigging_! The last time he had done so was probably when he was six. Even though the many pints that he had obligingly necked beforehand influenced his actions, he knew that he was genuinely having a good time, even though he was certain that he was making a right fool of himself. Taking Lourdes' outstretched hand, he tugged her towards him, twirling her in the process. Reaching him, Lourdes placed her arms out upon his chest for support, breathing heavily. She swayed a little, though Connor held onto her firmly, pressing her body upon his so that she wouldn't fall. "Hey, ye alright there?" he questioned worriedly as he looked down upon her, furrowing his brows.

"I feel a little lightheaded." Lourdes groaned in response, placing her hand on her forehead, and then running her fingers through her long, raven hair. "Maybe I should sit."

With a nod of wholehearted agreement, Connor led her back towards the booth, where she immediately plopped down with a smile. But just as Connor released her, she began to sink down the leather seats…further…and further…down.

"Looks like the boss is rightly smashed." Braden nudged Isolde and Craig alternately, his face half-filled with worry, half amusement. Seeing Connor animatedly pulling her back up from underneath the table, he gave out a low whistle. "Wow, I don't think I've ever seen her like this before!"

"Aye, she's always been good with her drink." Isolde commented with a frown, making her way towards Connor and Lourdes. Pressing her hand on Lourdes' burning cheek, she directed to Connor, "How is she?"

"I think I'll take her home." He replied curtly, head tilting towards the now half-sleeping Lourdes.

Isolde's expression filled with complete shock. She seemed to be preparing to knock the Saint out cold, hand reaching back behind her. At first, Connor raised his eyebrow in innocent confusion, and then finally realized that she had completely misconstrued his intentions. Holding out his arms in defense, almost flailing them in front of him, he reassured her, "No, _no_! Not like _that_!" When Isolde made no move to harm him, he explained, "I'll walk her home to make sure she gets there safely."

Even though she didn't seem completely reassured, Isolde eventually gave him a nod of acquiesce. "Alright, Connolly. Take care of her and make sure she drinks a lot of water."

"Aye." With a grunt, Connor pulled Lourdes up in his arms, throwing her limping arm around his shoulder.

As they exited the bar, Lourdes blinked repeatedly, observing her surroundings. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Connor flip his phone closed, along with the picturesque snowfall behind him. "Hey!" she screamed, yanking her arm away from Connor's grasp. "Where do _you_ think you're taking me?"

"Home." Connor paused, and then cleared his throat as he reiterated, "_Yer _home. Gonna make sure ye get there safely."

"But I don't want…"

Before Lourdes could finish her sentence, she slipped on some black ice, causing her to flail her arms wildly in the air in order to keep her balance. Almost acting as though it were a reflex, Connor caught her halfway towards the ground, almost slipping and falling himself. Regaining his balance with a grunt, he gave out an exasperated sigh as he pulled her up slowly. At that moment, she felt so limp in his arms that he thought that she had fallen asleep.

He was wrong. As her head suddenly shot up, she proclaimed, "I can handle my drink!"

"Apparently." Connor retorted sarcastically, though still smiled in amusement.

The twenty minute walk back to Lourdes' hotel room was quite eventful. It included Lourdes running off, with Connor on her tail; Lourdes yelling random profanity at complete strangers, at which Connor cursed himself; and, of course, Lourdes slipping several other times, with Connor catching her in the process. But by the grace of God, the two finally made it to Lourdes' hotel room, somewhat unscathed after the little adventure.

As Lourdes opened the door and turned on her lights, she winced. "I really have to clean this dump."

She took a cursory glance around her mess of a hotel room, which was, after all this time, turned into her makeshift apartment and office. Picking up sheets of scattered paper off the floor and stacking them in as neat of a pile as possible on the office desk, Lourdes patted the bed, motioning for Connor to sit. Turning on her laptop, she continued to rummage through her belongings, clicking open her briefcase for even _more_ paperwork and research – at least three piles' worth - to go through. At this, Connor gave a low whistle, staring at his own 'research', which he had left on her table: a yellow folder with no more than ten sheets of paper. _I fuckin' suck at this job_, Connor mused to himself.

"I've found some more information about Unionist members here in Boston." Lourdes began to slur, almost lying down on her chair. Typing a username and password into her computer, she continued what she was saying without even looking at Connor, sometimes even swaying on her seat. "Most of this information is classified, but I received clearance from my boss in Dublin to access these files just yesterday. I thought you might like to see them."

"Aye, definitely." Connor threw her a stiff nod, but winced in worry, "Ye sure ye want to go through all of this right now? Ye really don't seem to have much capability to…"

"I'm fine!" Lourdes gave him a reassuring smile, even patting him on the back for effect. "Look, you go through this, and I'll…"

As Lourdes tried to stand, she unceremoniously tripped on the leg of her chair roughly, causing her to curse out loud and to lose her balance. Faster than he himself could believe, especially at his state, Connor was upon his feet, catching the falling woman in his arms for probably the fifth time that night. "Whoa, alright there." He said with a chuckle, trying to get her to stand flatly on her two feet. "I think that was a clear indication that we'll be doin' no casework tonight."

"Fuck." Lourdes mumbled to herself, placing a hand on her head. "W-where's my bed?"

"Right behind ye."

"Oh. Right."

Holding onto Connor's arm, she took a few steps back. Finally feeling the edge of the bed, she happily plopped down, a contented smile appearing on her face. Connor placed his arms on his knees, slightly bending in order to look her eyes. "Ye sure ye'll be okay like this? Do ye want any water?" As he received a slow nod, then a slow shake of the head, he gave her a small smirk. "Alright, I'll probably see ye sometime after this week to talk about…"

Just as Connor was standing upright, Lourdes placed a delicate hand on his chest. "W-wait." She said softly, a small smile tugging upon her lips. Connor froze, his blue eyes tracing the hand that was still on his chest, up towards Lourdes' arm, and then finally halting at her twinkling dark-brown orbs. Lourdes didn't keep his penetrating gaze. Instead, she observed every inch of him in an excruciatingly slow manner, her lustful eyes then landing on his moist lips. Taking the rosary that was slightly dangling form his neck, she tugged softly, pulling Connor so closely that their faces were mere centimeters apart. Feeling his warm breath on her cheeks, Lourdes seemed to hesitate for a moment, completely frozen. Though, without another minute of deliberation, she lied down, pulling Connor right on top of her.

"Lourdes, wait, I…"

Not allowing him to finish his sentence, Lourdes took his burning lips in hers, kissing him hard. Wildly running her hands through his spiked hair, mussing it, she pulled him even closer to her, feeling every inch of his body upon hers. He propped himself upwards with his arms, which rested on either side of her head. Uncertainties leaving him, Connor felt himself quickly inflamed by her touch as her scorching kiss seemed to burn his lips. Aroused by the sensation of her writhing body under his, along with her wanton desire for him, he pinned her arms firmly upon the bed, kissing her more deeply. His tongue begged entrance into her mouth, teasing her, tasting her. She wholeheartedly complied with his request, their tongues now dancing in what seemed to be a never-ending kiss. He gave out a throaty groan as he felt her teasingly arching her hips to meet his, her fingernails simultaneously digging upon his shoulder blades, then running upon his back. He was falling further and further into an abyss, though finding himself unwilling to crawl out of it. This felt too good.

Breaking the kiss to only nibble at her neck, he ran his hands in a painfully slow manner down the sides of her arms, then tracing the sides of her body and eventually resting them upon her bucking hips. Connor was feverish now, covered in perspiration, though still fully clothed. The feelings that she had aroused in him were now incontrollable, her assault on his senses increasing as every moment passed by. After a few minutes, she rolled out from underneath him. In an instant, it was _her_ turn to pin him upon the bed, sensually straddling him. She leant forward, unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, placing a trail of kisses down his muscular chest and hard abdomen. Connor let out a shaky breath as she teased to go lower, almost unable to take the pressure building up within him. With a feather-light touch, Lourdes slowly traced her fingers upon his torso, running them greedily upon his ribbed abdomen and all the way back up to his hard chest, pushing his polo shirt upwards in the process. As she nipped, bit and licked his lips, neck and torso, Connor was in pure ecstasy, shutting his eyes and giving out a low moan in complete pleasure.

Though, just as he opened his lust-covered eyes once more, he saw a flash of Lourdes swinging her arm towards his head, an object held firmly in her hand, followed by darkness.

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**A/N**: So what'd you guys think? Don't forget to review! xx Till next time!


	9. Disguises Exposed

**A/N**: Thank you to wolfchick11, IrishSaints, Jade Opal and CaptainMC for reviewing! Alas, I am getting busier and busier, but I will try to keep working on this story!

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**Chapter 9: Disguises Exposed**

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_**"You Know My Name"**_

_**By: Chris Cornell**_

_If you take a life, do you know what you'll give  
Odds are, you won't like what it is  
When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me  
By the merciless eyes I've deceived_

_I've seen angels fall from blinding heights  
But you yourself are nothing so divine  
Just next in line_

_Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you  
The odds will betray you  
And I will replace you  
You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you  
It longs to kill you  
Are you willing to die_

_The coldest blood runs through my veins  
You know my name_

_If you come inside, things will not be the same  
When you return to my night  
If you think you've won  
You never saw me change  
The game that we have been playing_

_I've seen diamonds cut through harder men  
Than you yourself  
but if you must pretend  
You may meet your end_

_Try to hide your hand  
Forget how to feel  
(Forget how to feel)  
Life is gone with just a spin of the wheel  
(A spin of the wheel)_

_Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you  
The odds will betray you  
And I will replace you  
You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you  
It longs to kill you  
Are you willing to die_

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Connor awoke to what seemed like a thousand leprechauns simultaneously jumping on his head. Trying to remember what had transpired, he slowly opened his eyes, waiting for his blurred vision to correct itself. More thumping in his head soon followed, the bright light around him straining his eyes. He recollected McGuinty's, pints, Lourdes…_Lourdes_! Gritting his teeth in utter rage, he let out a low growl, attempting to move his body. Seeing familiar furniture in front of him, he tried to get up…only that he couldn't. He found himself tied to a wooden chair, feeling his hands bound behind him and his legs to that of the chair's.

"Good morning, _Connor MacManus_."

Connor's ears automatically perked up to the sound of Lourdes' icy voice behind him. Twisting his head as far back as he could, he could see from the corner of his eye that she was neither lustful nor inebriated, not at all in the very least. He was burning again, though this time, not with heated desire, but complete rage. He bucked again from his seat in an attempt to startle her, but it proved fruitless in the end. Calmly, Lourdes stood from the bed in perfect condition, walking over in front of Connor so that they were face to face. With firm eyes matched with a stone expression, she began, "Did you _really_ think that you could keep your charade up without me finding out? You _really_ took me for that much of a fool?"

The anger was rising. He was almost at his boiling point. Regardless of this, though, Connor managed to reply calmly, "Everything can be explained."

"Tell me, then," Lourdes placed her hands coolly on the arm of the chair, now nose to nose with Connor, gaze unflinching, "did you lead that attack on the IRA members, or was it Smecker, your brother Murphy, or your father, Il Duce?"

Their eyes locked, the battle of wills commencing. Connor tried his best to hide his bewilderment at this revelation. _How does she know all of this information_? He barked inwardly, flipping through his thoughts about everything that had transpired. She must have already suspected him in the first place and had been digging information about him whilst he was playing _his_ little game. Was he so careless that his cover had been blown so quickly? Was he so blind that he didn't see that she was on his trail, sniffing at him from the beginning?

Lourdes recognized the simultaneous indecision and incredulity upon his countenance. Expose the bastard, that's what she needed to do. Make him pay for what he did. Interrupting his thoughts, she flashed him a sardonic smile as she spat, "You know, you should really be more careful. As a Saint of Southern Boston, I thought you'd know how to be, not to mention know that it is never wise to underestimate your enemies." She pushed herself from the chair abruptly, causing Connor to shake.

"None of us are fuckin' responsible for the IRA murders or for the hit against ye and yer team." Connor retorted stiffly, stone-faced as he continued to meet her penetrating gaze. "_None_."

"Riiiight." Lourdes nodded in sarcasm, expressing mock thoughtfulness on her face, "and the Boondock Saints also aren't responsible for the mass killings of Mafiosi all over Boston, including that hit two days ago. _Forgive_ me, but I beg to differ."

Connor's patience had never been tried so much. Of course, his hurt pride and unfulfilled desire formed part of that equation, but he convinced himself that it was mostly Lourdes' betrayal. He stared her straight in the eyes, his blue orbs icy. "Ye may have done yer research, Villamor, but ye know deep down that we're not responsible for any of the shit against ye or the IRA. Think about it. If we wanted ye and yer agents dead, as the fuckin' Saints of Boston, ye would be fuckin' dead and buried by now. Not to mention that I would've already gotten out of this thing ye call bondage and have already broken yer neck." Lourdes didn't reply, but kept her stone-hard gaze fixated on Connor's. "Ye come to Boston all the way from Dublin with only minimal information on us and what we do. We kill the bad guys, and only the bad guys. No women, no children. Why would we target IRA members who only promote the independence of the Republic of Ireland? Innocent people who only want to keep Irish national pride alive?" Still not breaking his stare, Connor continued, "My brother, father and I, along with Smecker, only work and live to protect the innocent, the citizens of Boston. Any false pretense against ye was only there to get more information and to protect yer life and the life of yer agents. Yer not our enemy – now, the Unionists are."

To her own surprise, Lourdes reflected upon what the man had said, attempting to find truth and sense. As she reasoned with herself, she crossed her arms over her chest, questioning sternly, "Up until now, apparently, you've been telling me bullshit, so how do I know that this isn't just a bunch of bullshit as well?"

"Ye've obviously done yer research." Connor answered coolly, with a cocky tilt of his head, "And like I said, if we wanted ye dead, ye would've been dead a long time ago, along with yer agents." To her annoyance, his beguiling grin appeared. "I've been in yer presence for a month now. Even if yer neck is that pretty, if I wanted ye dead, I wouldn't think twice about breakin' it."

"You're fucking psychotic, you know that?" Lourdes exclaimed in utter bewilderment, pointing a guilty finger at him. "Killing people at your own will as if you were God?"

"Ye know so much about me and my family, but ye certainly don't understand what we're about." Connor replied calmly, his face grown serious. "Maybe ye will someday."

Before Lourdes could reply, her hotel door was suddenly smashed open, sending splinters and pieces of the wooden doorframe flying dangerously into the room. Lourdes cursed out loud to herself, stumbling a few paces behind her as she tried to find a weapon to defend herself with. The masked man who was now stalking into her room in confident strides held a switchblade in hand. He headed straight for her with no hesitation, surely intent on killing her, his eyes never leaving her form. Though, for a moment, she saw him look confusedly at Connor, who was still tied to the chair. Taking this window of opportunity, Lourdes lunged at the intruder, tackling his bulging arm in order to disarm him of the knife. She twisted, turned and pulled, earning a slight snap on his elbows. He bellowed, somewhat releasing his grip upon the weapon. Though before the blade fell, he twisted his body in convulsing pain, slashing at Lourdes' upper left arm. Crying out at the deep cut, Lourdes tried to kick at the bulk of the man with all of her strength, adrenaline pumping through her body. Though in pain, he had quickly recovered, suddenly grabbing her ankle and throwing her across the room with brute force. Moaning in pain, Lourdes landed on her stomach with a hard thud, luckily having her hands and elbows out to soften the painful blow. As she twisted her head to see where the attacker was, she felt an object hit her on the side of the head.

Everything went black.

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As Lourdes regained consciousness, the first thing she felt was a splitting headache. Audibly cursing to herself, she groaned lightly, desperately trying to move her head and body. Her next instinct was to defend herself, a flash of her attacker appearing in her mind, but she instantly realized that there was nobody attacking her. Slightly disoriented and feeling pain stinging everywhere, she hissed and gritted her teeth as she was finally able to open her eyes. Through her blurred vision, she could make out a man's sculpted visage now intently staring down at her. Instantly alarmed, she made a move to strike him, but was immediately halted as he snatched her arm and held it in place.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt ye," the stranger said instantly, continuing to struggle with Lourdes. She kept pulling her arms from his, attempting to strike him. After a while, his voice rose a little in disquietude, "My brother didn't go through the trouble of savin' ye only so that we can kill ye, so stop yer strugglin'!"

Halter her unwavering resistance for a few moments, Lourdes finally recognized the man looking down at her: Murphy MacManus. She finally realized that he was the one she had bumped into in front of McGuinty's all those weeks ago. Thanks to the many surveillance videos and photographs that she had uncovered along the way, she was positive that he was said MacManus brother. But what exactly did he just say? Did she hear him correctly when he said that Connor had just _saved_ her?

Lourdes gulped and continued to state upwards at him, having no clue as to what had happened after the giant of an attacker came bursting into her room. Murphy's intense, green orbs remained locked to hers, his rugged face remaining firm as he slowly released her arm. It was then that Lourdes recognized, to her astonishment, concern evident in his eyes. She was even more surprised to feel that even if she didn't know where she was at the moment, she didn't feel frightened then.

"How're ye feelin'?" Murphy finally broke his intense stare, backing away from her form slowly as he stood straight, finally lighting the cigarette that he held in between his lips. When Lourdes didn't immediately respond, his eyes unconsciously, though chastely, roamed down her form, checking on her injuries, and then landed on her face once more. She was confused then, but Murphy merely gave her a small smirk, waiting patiently for her reply.

"I'm fine." she replied quietly, her guard still up. Eyeing him slowly, she began to sit up, finding herself on a strange bed. Then, a surge of pain swept through her body, and she cried out through gritted teeth.

"Shit," Murphy mumbled as he sat down beside her, pressing his lips together in order to hold his cigarette, "Lie the fuck down, will ye? Yer gonna reopen yer wounds if ye keep movin', so keep still." He instructed quickly, placing a supporting hand on her back. Even though a thousand questions circled in her head, at the moment, Lourdes was in no position to protest. With her lack of strength, she did as she was told, her head now resting comfortably on the pillow. Her eyes quickly roamed the room, memorizing it, trying to find some familiarity within it. Though, she failed in the end, having no idea where she was.

"My brother's gone to get some food and medicine." He informed her lightly, a smile tugging at his lips. "He'll be back soon."

Lourdes tensed as she felt his body touch hers, shifting closer as he examined her and took a drag at the same time. "Now, lemme take a look at yer wounds. Ye took a right beatin' back there, I was told."

As his hand grazed her left arm, she stiffened, recoiling from his being. Twisting his head to face him, she croaked out weakly, "Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine."

"Doesn't look like it." He replied tersely, adding, "Connor says otherwise also." Not at all dissuaded by her reactions and subtle protests, he pulled the covers from her with no hesitation, examining the bump on her head and the cut on her arm. Lourdes gasped at the pain, but ultimately said nothing when she found that the warmth and tenderness of his touch was somehow comforting her. "I'll change these bandages in a few hours. Connor should be here soon. For now, ye…"

Now unable to take her complete confusion, Lourdes squealed, "Please tell me what the bloody fuck is going on!"

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**A/N:** Don't forget to review! Thanks guys! xx


	10. Explanations

**A/N: **Thank you to IrishSaints and wolfchick11 for reviewing and thank you all for reading! Enjoy this next one. I'll try to update as soon as possible. xx

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**Chapter 10: Explanations**

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_**"What Do You Do?"**_

_**By: Papa Roach**_

_I got a one-way ticker on a hell-bound train  
With nothing to lose and nothing to gain  
Nobody ever taught me how to live  
I'm feeling like I'm lost - like I'll never be found  
I'm twisted and I'm turned around  
Nobody ever taught me how to love  
I'm hurting everybody I'm hurting myself  
I'm desperate  
So what do you do  
When it all comes down on you?  
Do you run and hide  
Or face the truth?  
If you were to tell me that I'd die today  
This is what I'd have to say  
I never really had the time to live  
And if you were to give me just another chance  
Another life, another dance  
All I really want to do is love  
I'm hurting everybody  
I'm hurting myself  
I'm desperate  
When all is said and done you could be the one  
With open arms and open eyes  
You're jumping off the edge and hoping you can fly  
Accept your fate for what it is  
Into the great unknown  
...got a one-way ticket on a hell-bound train  
With nothing to lose and nothing to gain..._

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Lourdes' distressed request to for Murphy to explain what had transpired the night before certainly gained his attention. Her outburst took him aback, for he never would've guessed that she'd be a woman who was very _assertive_. She must also be a naturally convincing woman; well, he had only guessed, after finding out what she had done with Connor. He still couldn't believe that his brother had erred so easily, for he had always been the one able to suppress his feelings and hide his emotions. Though, with a conceding nod and shrug, he began to recount to Lourdes what had happened.

_**FLASHBACK**_

_Connor was astonished at the abrupt appearance of the intruder. Though having no idea who he was, he could see by his expression that he had every intention of harming Lourdes. Connor's eyes widened as he witnessed Lourdes defend herself, only somewhat successful at her attempt, her strength waning as she was overpowered. As the attacker stalked his way over to her once more, Connor, in the meantime, was easily escaping through the weak bondage that Lourdes had him in. Just has he had untied his last leg, he openly cursed to himself as he witnessed the remote control being smashed over Lourdes' head, breaking it into several pieces that scattered all over the carpeted floor. Finding himself enraged at this, Connor carried the chair that he had just been bound to and held it high over his head. Just as the attacker turned to pick up his fallen switchblade, Connor used all his might to swing the wooden chair, breaking it upon the attacker's head and sending him straight to the ground with an earth-shattering thud. _

_Breathing heavily after his exerted effort, Connor limped towards Lourdes' side, still feeling faint from his own head injury. He fell on his knees, pressing his two fingers upon her neck. There was still a pulse. Seeing that she was unconscious and severely bleeding from her wounds, he flipped open his cell phone and hastily dialed Murphy's number._

_"Murphy's Sex Shop, how may I please ye?"_

_"Oi, shut up!" Connor hissed. "Murphy, come to the agents' hotel, now!" He commanded frantically, eyes flashing about the room, praying to God that nobody else was coming. "Shit's gone down. Another assassin was sent to kill them. I killed the motherfucker, but I don't know how many of them there are."_

_"Fuck." Murphy swore to nobody in particular as he riotously honked and yelled at the car in front of him. "I'm in Da's car right now. I'll be there as soon as I can."_

_As he flipped his phone closed, Connor winced, assessing that Lourdes was severely wounded. Not wanting to hurt her even more, he tried his best not to move her as of yet, looking over her body to see where she was injured. Seeing her bleeding arm, he ripped a part of his shirt off, quickly tying it over her wound as a temporary tourniquet. A part of him didn't know why he was helping her. If this big, bald fuck didn't interrupt her little interrogating speech, who knew what she might've done? Rightly, what she could still do? 'Fuck ye, conscience,' Connor growled to himself, finding it impossible for him to be charitable to even her. 'She calls ye a fuckin' psycho and plans to single-handedly bring down the Saints, and ye respond by helpin' her!' Ignoring these facts for the moment, he took her in his arms, brushing away his discontent. As he held her head upon his lap, his ears perked up to worried voices from the corridor, calling out her name._

_"In here!" he cried in response, subsequently seeing Isolde and Braden appear at the doorway. They had just returned from McGuinty's a few moments prior when they heard scuffling noises above them. Immediately alert, they pried their guns from their holsters, cautiously walking through the hotel. Upon hearing Connor's voice, Isolde carefully entered the room, gun pointed in front of her first. Braden followed closely behind, his actions identical. Seeing the damage done to the room, as well as a lifeless man sprawled on the ground in front of them, they pointed their guns both at Connor, though question evident in their eyes. "Let her go."_

_"Whoa, hey…" Connor placed Lourdes softly on the ground, doing as he was told in slow motion. "I wasn't the one that tried to harm her." He tried his best to convince the two agents, arms slowly rising in the air. With a motion of his head, he pointed out the dead giant in front of him. "He did." Seeing that the two agents only half-believed him, he continued," Whoever these fuckers are, they found out where ye guys were stayin' again. Now they're obviously trying to take ye out one by one." Sharing the worried glances of the agents, Connor declared, "Ye guys need to be somewhere else right now, somewhere safe…and so does Agent Villamor."_

_"What do ye propose we do, then?" Braden inquired, though still pointing the gun dangerously towards Connor._

_"We need to take care of her wounds, but the hospital will ask questions. My brother will be here soon. I'll take her to my place on McGowan Street. It's the safest place I know right now for her to be treated and to recover." When he still saw hesitation, Connor continued, "Look, ye have yer guns already pointed at my head. I don't know what else to say to convince ye. I don't mean any of ye harm, alright?"_

_"Alright." Isolde finally gave in after a few moments of deliberation, eyes still surveying Connor's face. She lowered her gun, much to Connor's relief._

_Braden followed suit, his eyebrows furrowed. "What about us?"_

_"We'll take ye straight to the police station." It was the only logical thing that Connor could think of at the moment. Receiving nods of acquiesce from the agents, he instructed, "Tell Smecker about what happened and that I'll call him later."_

_**END FLASHBACK**_

"…I came just a few minutes later. We dropped yer agents off at the police station like Connor said and then we took ye here. Ye've been out for a few hours." Murphy's face suddenly hardened, recalling what had transpired between he and his brother on the drive home. He had unconditional faith in his brother, especially when it came to operations that he pulled, but he had never once experienced Connor actually make an error. It inextricably wondered and angered him, finally pinpointing that his brother's downfall had been a woman. Sitting back upon the bed, he informed her in a harsh tone, "Yer agents still don't know anything, but Con told me _everything_, so don't bother to make up bullshit."

Lourdes rightly swallowed under his intense gaze, once again on her guard. Truthfully, this Murphy MacManus was not who she had envisaged the person to be. She comprehended the crimes of the Saints, so she immediately formed a negative conception about all of them. But Murphy, his was a personality difficult to discern; somewhat temperamental, for his emotions tended to fluctuate, though benevolent in his intentions. Though even upon this reflection, Lourdes pursed her lips, still debating whether or not to believe his story. "I still can't believe that you managed to convince my agents to bring me here." A sudden surge of fear that they were injured, or worse, dead, crossed her mind.

"Almost didn't. It took both Smecker and my brother." Murphy smirked with a shrug. "We said we'd give 'em a call in the morning, so ye can have my word on that." As if reading Lourdes' previous thoughts, he reassured her quickly, "Don't worry, we didn't kill 'em or anythin'."

Half-heartedly accepting that reply for now, she questioned, "So where exactly am I?"

"The MacManus Brothers humble apartment." With his back straightened, Murphy replied, pride lining his tone. He cocked his head to the side. "This building is pretty quiet, so we don't have to worry 'bout any intruders here. Everyone pretty much keeps to their own shit, and that's just the way we like it."

At this point, Connor ungraciously entered the apartment, hugging a paper bad upon his chest as he quickly kicked the door closed. The loud bang had caught both Lourdes' and Murphy's attentions as Connor placed the bag unceremoniously upon the kitchen counter, along with his set of keys. His icy blue eyes instantly met Lourdes' penetrating gaze, what had transpired between them obviously not yet forgotten. Murphy felt the thick tension in the room, growing as every second passed by, his eyes bolting alternately between the two. He admitted that he couldn't blame his brother for being a little _irate_ about the situation. What possessed him to save the girl _was_ probably only his conscience. He would've done that for anyone. Though, Murphy knew that all of this 'Good Samaritan' shit had a price – everything had a price.

"The medicine's here." Connor's firm voice finally pierced the air, gaze softening as it now landed on his brother. As an afterthought, he flashed his eyes mockingly at Lourdes as he added with a snarl, "Make sure ye save one for me. I need it for _my_ head."

Lourdes' lips curled into a snarl as she inwardly growled. What right in earth, heaven or hell did _he_ have to be angry? _He_ had been the one putting on a façade! _Fuckin' male pride_, she snorted to herself. Replying bitterly, she eyed both men, "Having saved me or not, you both are still criminals, along with your father and Smecker."

Connor's patience finally waned at this statement. Expressing the exploding emotions within him, he slammed his fists upon the counter, startling both Lourdes and even his brother. He didn't know what he was more upset about: the fact that Lourdes had uncovered him, that he fell for her (nicely executed) sexual trick, or that he now openly placed his family and Smecker in complete danger. He held a stiff finger up, pointing it steadily at Lourdes. "Ye keep yer fuckin' mouth shut, alright? Ye don't know what the fuck yer talkin' about."

To Lourdes, Connor resembled a cornered animal rather than a caged one. So, gathering her courage, she decided to push this discussion along just a little further. "If you kill me, the _An Garda Síochána_ will be on your asses in an instant."

"Who said I was goin' to fuckin' kill ye?" Running his long fingers through his spiked hair in frustration, Connor stalked his way over to Lourdes' side. Murphy felt her immediately recoil. "Unless that's what ye want?"

Wrong move or not, Lourdes proclaimed, her chin held high. "I _will_ report you to the _proper_ authorities. These killings _will_ end, and you will be punished for what you've done."

Connor all but restrained himself from strangling her. As he took another menacing step forward, Murphy shot up a hand in defense, holding his brother at bay. "Lourdes," her name rolled off his tongue awkwardly as he began reasonably, "like I told ye, my brother only did what he did so that he could find out more information about the hit on ye, yer agents and the IRA. He meant none of ye harm." Twisting his head to face her, he declared, "As for our job, we harm those who deserve it and no one else. The crime rate in Boston went down twenty percent when we started doing our shit. The mafiosi went out into hiding. Most of their supporters shut up. No matter how wrong ye think it is, can't ye see that what we're doin' is for the benefit of the innocent?"

Lourdes blinked, trying to process all of this. What she believed in, followed and preached and what she was hearing now from the Saints were contradicting, and it wholly confused her. Could she go against what she was taught, both in secular and spiritual terms, and actually _accept_ what the Saints were about? Could the killings of these evil men be actually justified?

"_Fillean meal ar an meallaire_. Don't you agree with that?" Murphy continued through her silence, trying to make Lourdes understand their principles, keeping his eyes on her. "Cops shoot at criminals everyday, and sometimes kill them. Are they considered criminals themselves afterwards? No. They're even considered fuckin' heroes."

"Quit tryin' to persuade her, Murph." Connor retorted bitingly, gaze falling to Lourdes once more. "She ain't gonna get it through that thick skull o' hers." As he brushed his brother's hand away from his chest, Connor bent over, his face now parallel to Lourdes'. "Tell _anyone_ of what ye know and, so help me God, I will…I'll…"

Lourdes tightened her jaw, unflinching, challenging him to finish his threat. "You'll do what?"

"I'll figure somethin' out." Connor snapped after a few moments of unsuccessful thought, looming above her as he stood. He boomed, "Now take the fuckin' medicine and get the fuck out of my apartment!"

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**Translation:**

Fillean meal ar an meallaire. **Evil returns to the evil doer. **(From Gaelic)

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**A/N:** So what'd you think of that? Don't forget to review!


	11. Metamorphosis

**A/N: **Thank you to wolfchick11 and Jade Opal for reviewing and thank you all for reading! Enjoy this next one. xx

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**Chapter 11: Metamorphosis**

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**_"Both Ways" _**

**_By: Quietdrive _**

_Be honest with me_

_Did you ever think_

_That these things that you did_

_Would come back to haunt you_

_And fail you again_

_Don't ever question_

_My will to admit_

_That when we're alone_

_It's too hard to resist_

_Making believe_

_That we're bigger than this_

_For choosing a road_

_That is different but similar_

_To the same one I took before_

_Why don't we breathe_

_Why can't you see_

_That things aren't always_

_What they appear to be_

_And as simple as it sounds_

_I think I've found_

_The perfect way to grow old_

_The simpleness describes_

_The iron that is you_

_And your rusty old life_

_Get on the mattress_

_And tell-tale lies_

_Watch everything_

_That you touch turns to ice_

_Following the sheep_

_And they're at it again_

_Making believe_

_That they're free as it seems_

_but only finding out that_

_They're on a sinking ship_

_That doesn't care_

_How many it saves today_

_Watch out now_

_I see the light_

_At the end of the tunnel_

_It seems realistic_

_That getting there will make us fine_

_But watch out now_

_It's full of glass_

_Don't take the chance_

_You'll surely pass_

_At least someday_

_We'll know the reason why_

_The perfect way_

_The perfect way_

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Murphy was actually taken aback at the ill-humour of his brother, not to mention his open disrespect for a woman. He had not seen his twin so angered in a very long time, for he was always the level-headed one out of the two. The tables seemed to have turned in this situation, because Murphy found himself surprisingly calm as he continued to stand beside Lourdes, watching Connor snatch the keys from the counter, place on his coat, and slam the door with brute force behind him. With a heavy sigh, Murphy retrieved the medicine that he had left on the counter, bringing it to Lourdes.

"You're putting me in a very difficult situation, do you know that?" Lourdes' stern voice caught Murphy's attention once more, his eyes flicking to her form. Taking the medicine from his grasp, she whispered, "Thank you."

Murphy breathed inwardly, lips pressed into a thin line. "Who gives a shit about fuckin' protocol? Think about it rationally." He drilled a finger in her direction. "We're tryin' to fuckin' _help_ ye, and all ye can think of is throwin' our asses in jail? Do ye think we're doin' all of this shit, dodgin' bullets left and right, for our own sake? There are decent families out there that don't need fuckin' rapists, drug dealers and child molesters runnin' around in their neighbourhoods. We fuckin' protect Boston, Lourdes. That's our job."

Lourdes found herself stuttering, "I…I just can't fathom how Smecker…"

"Smecker's been on our asses all of last year, ye know that." Murphy's eyes squinted in conviction, arms outstretched to his sides. "Now look what he's doin'. He's helpin' us. If he can see the good in what we do, then I know ye can, too. It's simple Lourdes, black and white. We ain't askin' for ye to join us, or even protect us. We're askin' ye to just let us do our job and let things be the way they are here in Boston."

Lourdes placed her hand son her face and then ran her dainty fingers through her hair. Everything the brothers had said had been true, and through her research, Boston seemed to have been safer ever since the Saints had come into existence. And Smecker, a top FBI agent. With his pristine track record, he actually began to help the Saints with their operations. Feeling dizzy at both thinking too much and her injuries, Lourdes popped the pills, quickly swallowing. "My agents…"

"They can't know." blurted Murphy, completely interrupting her. "Lourdes, I know they won't be as understanding. Ye got to know my brother and Smecker, and ye know they're good people – but they didn't. For all we know, they'll just go straight to the _An Garda Síochána _without a second thought. We'll all be fucked."

The sincere distress plastered on Murphy's face was very convincing. She eyed the MacManus brother as he stared at her expectantly, sitting down beside her once more on the bed. With years of experience, Lourdes found herself to be a good judge of character, and as she continued to observe Murphy, her instincts told her that he was sincere. Then, to her own surprise, she finally croaked, "I won't say anything."

"Much obliged." Relief completely passed over Murphy's handsome face, his crooked smile returning. "Look, stay here as long as ye want. Connor will get over it."

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Connor couldn't help but envision what had transpired the night before: Lourdes' sultry body squirming under his; the way she had moved upon him, so expertly; how she looked, smelt, tasted, which continued to electrify his senses. _Fuckin' hell_, he cursed to himself, exhaling a shaky breath. He physically shook his head for good measure, trying to knock some sense into his pathetic brain. How the fuck could he have fallen for that? _This woman single-handedly devised a plan that blew yer cover, so stop _fantasizin' _about her being in bed with ye!_ The scolding voice in his head was so loud that he gave out a nod, regaining his composure as he opened his apartment door.

Connor returned later that evening, finally calm and collected. Murphy had been waiting up for him, worried that he might have done something rash, stupid. Upon his entrance, Murphy abruptly stood from the couch, placing his beer on the adjacent table. Concern was printed on his face as he approached his twin.

"I talked to Da and Smecker." Connor informed his brother without a salutary greeting. Placing his rosary on the protruding nail on the wall he declared, "They know everything."

Murphy puffed his cheeks, exhaling slowly. "What'd they say?"

"Not to harm the girl or her agents." Connor replied succinctly, trapping a cigarette between his lips.

"Thought they would say that."

Murphy followed his brother towards the kitchen and proceeded to take a seat at the table as Connor grabbed a well-deserved beer. Tossing one to his brother, the twins sat across from one another in comfortable silence, celebrating another long day being over.

Murphy cleared his throat and said in a light tone, "She seems to be doin' fine. She's sleepin' now, though." Connor didn't reply and seemed to ignore what his twin ad just said. He merely continued to drink his beer and smoke his cigarette in silence. With an irritated sigh at his brother's difficult attitude, Murphy asserted, "Con, I talked to her this afternoon, alright? She said she'd keep quiet."

"And ye fuckin' believe her?" snorted Connor, shaking his snow-covered coat off and tossing it upon the couch. "Ye were the one that said not to trust these agents in the first place!"

"Ye shouldn't be so hard on her, ye know. She's on someone's hitlist now, for fuck's sake!" Murphy suddenly came to her defense, eyebrows furrowing as he tilted his head towards the room where Lourdes was resting. "She was only doing her job, she didn't do anything wrong!"

"Didn't do anything wrong? She fuckin' hit me on the head and knocked me out, for fuck's sake!" Connor exclaimed, pointing vigorously to the nasty bump protruding from his head. "Second of all, I didn't fuckin'…" _Damn her, damn her!_, he thought instead. Connor trailed off, earning a raised eyebrow from his brother.

"What?"

"Nothin'!" He gruffly replied, almost having a pout on his lips.

Murphy disregarded his brother's reply. "She called her agents while I was with her." He persisted as he lit a cigarette, placing his feet upon another chair. He waved his hand around. "She just told 'em that she was alright and that she was feelin' better. Nothin' else."

Connor took another cigarette from his pack as he sat down in front of his brother once more. "Look, Murph." Connor pointed to his brother with two fingers, cigarette lodged in between them. "She tricked me once. Don't think she can't do it again."

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Lourdes didn't sleep that night. Thankfully having the chance to do so and recover throughout the day, she spent the rest of the night waiting for the brothers to fall asleep. Having had to wait for hours whilst they smoked and drank in the kitchen (much to her annoyance), they finally called it a night around two in the morning, retiring in the room beside hers.

Carefully standing up – both to save her pain and to remain quiet – she took the coat that was hanging from a chair beside her bed, hastily placed it on, and waited to listen at the doorway. She ignored the protests of her legs, which shook with every step, and carefully crept towards the kitchen. Squinting in the dark, with only the full moon shining down as her only source of light, she felt for Connor's car keys on the kitchen counter. As she managed to find it and grip her hand on top of it, two hands shot out from behind her, grabbing her upper arms. Lourdes jumped with a gasp, dropping the keys onto the floor.

"And where the fuck to ye think yer goin'?" she felt Connor's breath tickle the nape of her neck as he moved closer to her. "With _my_ car, as it seems?"

"Getting the fuck out of your apartment." She spat in return, using Connor's words against him. Lourdes pried herself from his tough grasp, feeling pain surge through her body as she turned to face him. She met his blazing gaze head on, letting her hands drop to her sides as she clenched her fists.

"When I said that," Connor retorted, releasing her and crossing his arms upon his broad chest. "I didn't mean for ye to take my car. I meant for ye to walk."

"Fine!" Lourdes barked, feeling as though she were five again. "I don't need your fucking car!"

"_Finally_, ye understand what I'm sayin'. Don't forget to close the door on yer way out." At this, Connor swiftly picked up his fallen keys and turned his back on her. Whistling an Irish tune, he walked nonchalantly towards the fridge, ruffling his hair and even letting out a yawn as he took out a drink.

With rage burning inside of her, Lourdes limped to his side as quickly as she could manage. Grabbing his shoulder, she violently turned him around to face her, almost making him drop his drink. "What the fuck is your problem?" she hissed.

"This," Connor replied coolly, pointing to the bump on his head as he took another sip of his drink, "is my problem."

"Fuckin' pansie. Can't even handle a small injury." Lourdes muttered under her breath, this time turning _her_ back on the Saint.

He wouldn't be defeated by her again. With an audible growl, Connor churlishly placed his drink on the table. Grabbing the sides of her arms once more, he swirled her around to face him with brute force. "Yer fuckin' lucky that there was only one attacker and that I was there to save ye! If I wasn't, ye would be fuckin' dead and rottin' by now!" Lourdes gulped, the rage inside of her lessening with this truth. The MacManus wasn't done with her, though. Not even close. At this point, Connor's face became even sourer. He leaned his face forward, stopping mere inches away from hers. "Coincidentally, that same night, you planned to fuckin' seduce me, knock me out, badger the fuck out of me, and were probably plannin' to either kill me or send me to jail."

Lourdes had the nerve to roll her eyes, even in her position. "Don't be so fuckin' dramatic." She snapped, attempting to push him away with her hands on his chest. He continued to hold her firmly as she scoffed, "Not like you were being a fuckin' honest saint either."

Connor brushed off her unintended pun, though her statement caught his tongue momentarily. He barked, "And if I had been honest with ye from the beginning, would ye have believed me? Would ye have _helped_ me?"

It was Lourdes' turn to snap her mouth shut.

"Can't ye get it through yer head that I thought I was doin' what was best for all of us?" Connor's voice was audibly softer, his hold on her loosening slightly. "I protected ye when ye were in danger, took care of ye when I thought ye were smashed to hell…" he began to trail off, his blue eyes boring into hers. Even through the darkness, Lourdes could make out Connor's rugged, sculpted face staring, searchingly, down at her. He said in a light tone, "I'll forgive ye for knocking me out if ye promise not to do it again."

Lourdes stiffened as he brought her closer to his muscular, stiff body. He didn't wait for her to respond. Lourdes' jumbled thoughts were interrupted as she felt Connor's hand brush away tendrils of hair from her face. He proceeded to place a finger on her jaw, tilting her head slightly to the side as he examined the bruise on her head, then the cut on her arm. Finding that she was holding her breath, she finally released it as he retrieved his hand, confused that she was suddenly so undone by his touch, his closeness. He looked down at her with dark eyes once more, making her alert. Then, ever so tenderly, he traced the side of her face with the back of his fingers, touch no longer innocent. Lourdes could see colliding emotions within him through his eyes as his gaze remained fixed to hers.

Without warning, Connor retrieved his hand as if her cheek had burnt him. The tenderness that appeared on his expression for a split second had disappeared as quickly as it had come, being replaced by a hard, stiffened jaw. Completely releasing her, he turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the dark.

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**A/N: **Jesus, I love Connor! haha Please review! I want to know what you all think! xx


	12. Veritas

**A/N: **Thank you to wolfchick11, IrishBoysareHott and IrishSaints for reviewing and thank you for reading! I'm currently working on a Murphy/OC, so keep a lookout for that! Happy reading! xx IFHD

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**Chapter 12: Veritas**

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_**"If I Fail"**_

_**By: Cartel**_

_Time to go, "This is goodbye"  
She said "Does it ever get easier to live like this"  
And kiss the cheek  
For I can't kiss you anymore  
And I, I would honestly love you now  
But I would lovingly let you down_

_Oh I have the hardest time resisting you  
And oh if you  
If you feel the same way then how can we be friends  
He's right you know, we can't go on like this  
And oh I try to give you everything  
And if I fail well then I failed  
But at least I gave you something_

_I could put my trust in giving up the heart  
It makes the difference  
And how can you afford to settle down  
When I, I would promise to love you now  
But I would lovingly let you down_

_(It's better than silence)  
(Give me one good reason)_

_It's better than silence (you know)  
Give me one good reason (you know)  
To leave this in silence (you know)  
No, you don't have a good reason (you know)_

_It's better than silence  
It's better than silence_

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Paul Smecker sat on pins and needles on his swivel chair, trapped in an uncomfortable silence in his own office. Lourdes' eyes bore through him as she sat directly in front of him, her face firm and unyielding in his presence. Earlier, he had found her in front of his office door, poised to knock, still showing evidence of being battered and bruised. Seeing her state, he ushered her inside without a word, examining her injuries with sincere concern. Simultaneously shrugging off the oversized black coat that she was wearing, she had taken a seat in the chair that she usually sat on when she would pay him a visit, a cold aura surrounding her.

Now, they were still alone, with so much being said in so little words.

"I don't know what to say." Smecker admitted guiltily, biting his lower lip. When Lourdes did not respond, he folded his hands and placed them upon the wooden table in front of him, reassuring her, "You know everything."

"I don't know what to do, Agent Smecker. A part of me still thinks that these men are lunatics." Lourdes admitted in return, though her face barely showed any signs of emotion. "I held you in very high regard, and to suddenly uncover that you had made such a rash move by abetting the controversial Saints…"

"It was not a decision that I would normally make." He elucidated, simultaneously recalling his so-called 'epiphany' in that confessional booth all those many months ago. He mused, almost to himself, "Believe it or not, Agent Villamor, I _did_ actually seek spiritual guidance about the matter."

"And _that_ was the decision that you had made?" Shaking her head in incredulity, Lourdes couldn't help but openly scoff at this. "Then I suggest you change priests. Or religion."

"Agent Villamor, I'm sure you've already spoken with the brothers about their principles. I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you of their purpose, since I'm still trying to grasp it myself." Smecker took a long drag of his cigarette, leaning back into his chair. "But we all have to admit that their ways – vigilante as they may be – has helped the city of Boston tremendously. Whether you like it or not, or _agree_ with it or not, they may be the ones who can lead us in our fight against these Unionist bastards." Smecker flicked his cigarette on a nearby ashtray. "I have high hopes that they _will_ apprehend the men responsible for the attacks against you and your agents. They're good at what they do, Agent Villamor. At least give them a shot like I did."

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. As Smecker called for them to enter, he and Lourdes eyed the door expectantly. In what resembled a procession, the MacManus brothers stepped in, followed by their father. The three stood at the doorway, eyes all falling upon Lourdes. She briefly met Connor's hard orbs, but immediately looked away. She swallowed in nervousness, gripping the arms of her chair more tightly as they stood in a line parallel to her and Smecker, never breaking their stares.

Eerie silence plagued the room, creating thick tension between all of them. Thanks to Murphy, though, the tension was somewhat broken. Involuntarily tilting his head to the side, he suspiciously eyed the coat that Lourdes held on her lap. Following his gaze, Lourdes finally looked down and realized that she had taken _his_ coat, judging by the look on his face and the…_thing_ that he was wearing. Murphy had covered himself with what could've possibly been a bear, the fur coat hanging loosely over his shoulders. Lourdes had to admit that he looked quite ridiculous, and upon seeing the glint of amusement in her eyes, Murphy raised an eyebrow in warning. Seeing this, Lourdes cleared her throat, giving him a sheepish look of apology as she silently handed him back his coat.

Nobody except for Il Duce made a move after this silent exchange. Placing his hands behind his back, he languidly walked towards Lourdes, stopping just a couple of feet beside her. He could see her squirm just a little on her seat as she met his hard gaze. Without taking his eyes off of her, he simply instructed, "Leave us."

Without protests, Smecker and the MacManus brothers quietly exited the room. Il Duce began to pace behind her, head slightly bowed. "It's good to finally meet ye, Miss Villamor."

"Il Duce." She croaked out cautiously, more in question than in greeting.

The pacing stopped behind her. "Ye need not fear me, girl. My sons and I will not touch ye."

Lourdes said nothing, but tilted her head upwards so that she could see him. Throughout her many years of experience with the Irish Forces, she has seen many things and, consequently, has met many people. It took quite a lot to unnerve her. But Il Duce, she found, was another case. His aura screamed of such power, strength and ferocity that she felt so minute beside him, resembling a mere child.

"So ye've had yer agents relocated to the Irish Embassy, aye?"

Her eyes immediately widened. She had only called her boss in Ireland a couple of days ago to speak about everything that was transpiring. Having the agents under the auspices of the Irish Embassy was the decision that they had both made then, thinking it was the safest thing to do under the circumstances. _How did he know this information_?, she screamed to herself, keeping her expression neutral. _Looks like they've been investigating on me, too. _With a gulp, she responded, "I insisted upon it. We will be protected at all times."

"T'was a good decision." Il Duce walked into her line of sight, halting directly in front of her. "Agent Villamor, the man who tried to kill ye at yer hotel was a Unionist member. Not one high in the ranks, but he had been a supporter for years."

"The Unionists only sent one man?"

"They probably thought ye were all alone in yer room." he hypothesized, adding, "Luckily Connor had been there to help ye. If he wasn't, there would've probably been an extra body in the morgue."

Unexpectedly, Lourdes slightly blushed at the statement regarding Connor, thinking about that specific night with him. To her own confusion, she really _did_ have second thoughts about carrying out her 'operation' that night. Regardless of what she had uncovered about Connor, she did truly believe that he was a good man. Her thoughts then flashed to what had transpired between them just a few nights prior. She couldn't remember the last time she had been touched so…tenderly. Her heart immediately wrenched at the thought of Colin, briefly closing her eyes at the painful memory.

"The leader of the Extreme Unionists is named Keiran O'Sullivan." Il Duce's voice shook Lourdes out of her reverie. "He owns illegal stocks and businesses all over the United Kingdom, having stockholders all over the world. As always, the son o' a bitch wants more money, so he supports the reunification of Ireland and the United Kingdom. He will gain more profit out of it."

Lourdes tried to process all of this information, trying to connect the attacks and killings to what Il Duce was saying. It was not long before he answered her.

"Some of his stockholders are honest men that belonged to the IRA. When they found out from a mole in O'Sullivan's camp that he was dirty and methodically murdered his stockholders in order to take their accounts, they spread the word throughout the organization. O'Sullivan eventually found out and decided to silence these men once and for all." Il Duce took a brief pause, leaning on Smecker's desk. "I have just recently discovered the whereabouts of Keiran and his followers right here in Boston. We need to act now and get rid of them as soon as possible before more people die."

Lourdes found herself protesting to this. "Mass killings of these people will not end these crimes! They will only cause more outrage, and this backlash may be bigger than anything that we have dealt with thus far!"

"Ye get rid of the leader, and ye make them scatter." Il Duce continued to reason with her. "Divide and conquer, Miss Villamor. They will only fight amongst themselves when O'Sullivan's dead and buried."

"This isn't…"

"Protocol?" he interjected, arms crossing in front of him. "Young woman, there is a time when 'protocol' can kick itself in the balls. Yer tellin' me that if someone shoots at ye, ye won't shoot back? This is _real life_, and ye cannot wait for yer boss to tell ye what to do when yer life's in danger." It was then that Il Duce stood, his face cleared of any emotion. His next statement shocked Lourdes, so much so that she felt as though she was going to have a heart attack. "I knew yer father, Riley, many years ago, long before I spent twenty five years in jail. He was a good man, one of the best agents in the United Kingdom. Even _he_ didn't abide by the protocol all the time."

Lourdes furrowed her brows at his somewhat cryptic statement, visibly confused. Il Duce did not intend to answer her questioning glance. Instead, he merely said, "We didn't come here to reason with ye, Miss Villamor. We merely came here to inform ye of what we're goin' to do."

vvv

Lourdes and Il Duce stepped out of the office a few minutes later, where they found Smecker and the brothers sharing a laugh. They immediately stopped and instantly grew serious when they saw the two walking towards them, with Il Duce leading the way and Lourdes following closely behind.

"We will take her to the Irish Embassy." announced Il Duce, almost regally, as he reached his sons. "Smecker, we will contact ye as soon as possible when we get new information."

The four swiftly exited the Boston Police Station, piling into Da's car. To Connor's annoyance, Murphy had shoved his way through the three of them to claim shotgun. Not being in the mood to argue, Connor opened the door to the backseat, allowing Lourdes to enter first. They briefly made eye-contact before she entered, though said not a word.

As Da began to drive, Murphy turned his attention to Lourdes and his brother, who sat as far away from each other as they possibly could. Noticing the two feet of space in between them, he raised a questioning eyebrow. With a cheeky grin plastered on his face, he piped up, "Ye two over everythin' now? Did ye kiss and make up?"

Connor's response wasn't exactly what Lourdes was expecting. "Of _course_ we are!" The light tone in his voice immediately caught her suspicion. Proving her instincts to be correct, he continued in the most sarcastic of manners, "Although, I _must_ say, yer kissing abilities were quite _excellent_."

A million words flashing through her mind, Lourdes' rebuttal was quick as she retorted, "In my _humble_ opinion, you were pretty damn sloppy. And to think that you weren't even drunk!" She even gasped and placed a hand over her mouth for effect. "Travesty!"

Murphy had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, highly enjoying the banter between the two.

"Really now?" Unphased by her intended insult, Connor retaliated smoothly with a forced smirk, "Well, why don't you let me try again? Maybe it'll refresh your memory."

Lourdes merely squinted her eyes tiredly, turning her head away from Connor. She was through with bickering with him like a five year old! But even if _she_ was done with the 'conversation', Connor certainly was not.

"Why did you wait so long to hit me over the head, then?" He only moved his face closer to hers, their noses merely inches apart. A smirk of conceit appeared on his handsome face. "You were enjoyin' it too much, weren't ye?"

"I had to make it convincing, didn't I?" Lourdes cocked a brow, looking upon his face once more as she made her finishing blow, "And by the looks and _feel_ of it, you were _thoroughly_ convinced."

A chorus of laughter from Murphy, and even – was she mistaken? - Il Duce, sounded from the front of the car before Connor could strike again. Mouth agape, he had no words to retaliate with, merely staring at Lourdes in incredulity. When she eyed him triumphantly, Connor's bewildered expression had suddenly changed, lips curling into that gorgeous smirk of his. He leaned in closer to Lourdes once more, mouth stopping right beside her right ear. He gently whispered, "I must admit…I _was_ very…_convinced_."

Lourdes gulped, feeling the shivers running through her body. Connor only chuckled to himself as he saw her stiffen, content that he had won the battle. Murphy gave them both a round of applause, seemingly content at their wondrous display of bickering.

Taking a folder out of his bag, Connor held it out to Lourdes, wholly disregarding their previous 'conversation'. Her eyes glanced at the yellow folder dangling in front of her, then at Connor.

"The night that ye were attacked, a thought hit me: How could the Unionists have found out where ye and yer agents stayed _again_?" As Connor spoke, Lourdes finally took the folder from his grasp. Flipping it open, she read through the papers inside, simultaneously listening to what he was saying. "The first attack could have been by chance, but how did the Unionists even _know_ where ye were staying in the first place? Then, the second attack. How the hell did they find ye again?"

Lourdes' face progressively became paler and paler as she sifted through correspondence letters within the folder: written and transcribed documents all printed out before her, between someone and Unionist members.

"At first I just thought that these Unionists are just determined bastards that don't give up until they have their prey, but these Unionist fuckers aren't that intelligent." Connor flipped to the last page, specifically showing it to Lourdes. "They had help."

Lourdes placed a hand over her mouth, unable to believe what was written on the paper before her. It was a transcript from a call intercepted by Smecker himself:

_February 13_

_0400 hours_

_Westin Boston Waterfront Hotel_

_We're staying at The Westin Boston Waterfront Hotel, 425 Summer Street. Agent Lourdes Villamor is heading the investigation. She's staying in room 333. Take her out first, then kill the three others. I'll keep you posted on what they're doing._

"They found you all so easily, Lourdes," Connor waited until he had Lourdes' full attention before he finished, "because you have a mole in your team."

vvv

**A/N: **Ooh, and the plot thickens! What do you think about this chapter? Who do you think the mole could be? xx IFHD


	13. Introductions

**A/N: **Hey everyone! First of all, thank you to wolfchick11 and IrishSaints for reviewing. It means a lot to me. Thank you all for reading as well!

If you don't know yet, I'm currently writing a **Murphy/OC **entitled **"Even In Heaven"**, so check that out when you have the time! People seem to be liking it, so I'm happy about that.

Also, remember to check out the **Path To Sainthood OC Character Collage**. The link is on my profile page.

Happy reading!

xx

IFHD

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**Chapter 13: Introductions**

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_**"Light Up The Sky"**_

_**By: Yellowcard**_

_Your making choice to live like this,  
And all of the noise,  
I Am Silence.  
We already know how it ends tonight,  
You run in the dark through a firefight.  
And I would explode just to save your life,  
Yeah I would explode._

_Let me light up the sky,  
Light it up for you.  
Let me tell you why,  
I would die for you.  
Let me light up the sky._

_I can't find a wall to pin this to,  
Their all coming down since I've found you.  
I just wanna be where you are tonight.  
I run in the dark looking for some light,  
And how will we know if we just don't try,  
We won't ever know._

_Let me light up the sky,  
Light it up for you.  
Let me tell you why,  
I would die for you._

_Let me light up the sky,  
Light it up for you.  
Let me make this mine,  
I'll ignite for you._

_Let me light up the sky,  
Just for you tonight.  
Let me help you fly,  
Cause you won't have time.  
To cover your eyes,  
To get your disguise,  
They won't ask you why,  
They just watch you die._

_And it's still so hard to be who you are,  
So you play this part,  
The show goes on.  
You've come this far with a broken heart,  
Yeah you've come this far,  
And you've broken.  
_

_And it's still so hard to be who you are,  
But you've come this far with a broken heart.  
And it's still so hard to be who you are,  
But you've come this far with a broken..._

_Let me light up the sky,  
Let me light up the sky._

vvv

The sun began to relinquish its place upon the sky, slowly sinking beyond the horizon. Hues of pink, orange and yellow emanated from the distance, signaling the end of another day and the countless hours that the MacManus brothers had been waiting patiently in front of the Irish Embassy for Lourdes to show. The two continually stared at the entrance, as if she would appear at their whim if they just concentrated a little harder. Though the seconds, minutes and hours passed, and still no sign of the agent. From the stiff positions and expressions that the twins wore upon arrival, they gradually grew tired and bored, and were now poised as though they were completely hammered, slouched (almost painfully) upon the seats, limbs fighting to stretch, yawns automatically escaping from their mouths.

"Isn't it dangerous for Lourdes and the other agents to be staying with the mole at the Embassy?" Murphy took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it lazily out of the car window. With a leg propped up against the dashboard, he rolled his head back, exhaling rings of smoke out in front of him. "I mean, fuck, they could be fuckin' murdered in their sleep for all we know."

"They're inside the Irish Embassy, for fuck's sake. Every breath they fuckin' take is recorded, 24/7." Connor rested his arm on the steering wheel, peering out at the imposing four-story, white building beside them. He continuously attempted to find a more comfortable spot on his chair, unable to feel his numb bottom anymore. "The fucker can't do anythin' unless he…or she…wants to be caught red-handed."

"She ain't talkin' to her agents about any of this shit, right?" Rolling up his window to block out the biting wind, Murphy turned his attention to his brother, tightening his jaw.

"I don't think she can trust any of them, Murph," Connor admitted with an exhaled breath, fists now clenched upon the steering wheel, "not until she finds out who the bastard is. They can all be dirty for all we know. This could all be just a big set-up." He paused, pursing his lips in deep thought. "She's on her own now."

"Well, not completely, aye?" Murphy gave his brother an encouraging slap on the arm with the back of the hand. "She's got us."

Connor groaned at Murphy's hearty enthusiasm, giving him a rude shove. "I thought that we agreed that we were like 7/11. Now what are we turning into, a woman's shelter?"

Murphy was caught completely dumbfounded. His jaw dropped as he tried to find a proper response. Seeing his difficulty, Connor began to laugh, his smile reaching his eyes, as he shook his head. Giving his twin another shove, he snickered, "I was merely jokin', ye dumbass. 'Course we'll help her. That's why we're here now, aye?"

A miracle occurred then. Lourdes finally appeared from the entrance of the Irish Embassy just as the twins' conversation had ended. Carrying a black briefcase in hand, she was attired in an all-blue business suit, the length of the skirt just reaching her knees. On top, she sported a long, black coat, ending just above her thighs. Briskly walking down the marble steps on dark-blue high heels, she acted as naturally as possible as she discreetly searched for the MacManus car. Spotting flashing headlights to her right side, she quickly spotted the brothers and hastily marched towards them, head tucked down.

As she entered the car, Murphy twisted his head around to face her, greeting her with, "So did ye find and kill the motherfucker yet?"

"Not yet." She breathed out in response as she slammed the door close. "Sorry about being late. Our every move is being watched and recorded. We're all under high surveillance, even though we – save one – aren't the criminals in the first place. It's hard for the mole to operate, yeah, but it's making it hard for me to even investigate. I couldn't find out any evidence as to who it may be."

As Connor began to drive away from the Embassy, he firmly suggested, "The only thing we can do is go through each of 'em one by one when they're nowhere near the Embassy. We gotta catch 'em when their guards are down."

Quickly thinking, Lourdes replied, "One of them is not in there for sure. He's in the Boston Hospital."

Connor clicked his tongue, giving Lourdes a side smirk. "Looks like we got our first target."

"I must say," Murphy piped up in a light tone a few minutes later, index finger wagging in front of him as he eyed his twin and Lourdes alternately, "That was probably the first civil conversation I've heard ye two have."

Connor caught a glimpse of Lourdes from the rearview mirror, his eyes smiling in good humour. "Don't ye worry, Murph. She's got more fire in her. Don't ye, Lourdes?"

Lourdes playfully rolled her eyes at this, but found that a smile was slowly pulling at her lips. She had to admit that the bickering and bantering that went on constantly between she and Connor helped her cope with the amount of stress piling up on her shoulders. Although the MacManus brothers were only her acquaintances – or accomplices – at the moment, she felt that they were helping her with more than her job. And Il Duce. He had mentioned that he had known her father many years ago. The fact that her father, Riley Villamor, the epitome of all that was righteous and just, was actually acquainted with the notorious Il Duce astounded her. She wondered if there were any other ways that her family was connected with the MacManuses.

Looking out the window, Lourdes realized that they were going nowhere near the hospital. Furrowing her brows in question as the car slowed to a stop, she took another look outside. Connor had parked in front of a church. Simultaneously exiting the vehicle, the brothers slammed the doors shut behind them. She eyed each of them confusedly as she unfastened her seatbelt. Murphy then lopsidedly popped his head in front of her window, grinning at her. "Detour. We won't be long." Giving the hood two taps, he began to jog away, catching up with his brother in the distance as they entered through the gigantic oak doors.

Lourdes must have waited in the car for only five minutes when curiosity got the best of her. What business did the Saints have in a church, especially on a Tuesday afternoon? Intending to find out and despising the fact that she was left in the car like a child, she cautiously exited the vehicle, closely surveying everything around her. When nothing seemed to be amiss, she placed her hands in her coat pockets, following the footsteps of the Saints and making her way inside the massive church.

As she entered, her breath was immediately taken by the grandeur of the cathedral. It was completely empty save for Lourdes, the brothers, and a handful of other people scattered around the pews in silent prayer. The cathedral wasn't as impressive as those she had seen in Europe, but it was breathtaking nonetheless for a relatively young city. What caught her eye was the gigantic statue of Jesus Christ at the very front, seemingly hovering over the altar.

Connor caught her entrance from the corner of his eye as he knelt in the pews in prayer. He eyed her curiously, seeing her slow procession down the aisle of the church. His thoughts then flashed to a night where he had been doing some research on the attacks against the agents. Giving into curiosity, he began to dig up information about Lourdes, wanting to know who she was exactly. It was then that he had found out that she was an only child and that her mother had died when she was very young. All she had left was her father, one of the top agents in the Irish Forces for many years, and a few relatives to look after her while she was growing up in England. Fresh out of university at twenty, she was immediately recruited into the _An Garda Síochána_ in Dublin to work as an agent, selected for her pristine record and top honours in school. From then on, all of Lourdes' information was classified. And ever since that night, Connor's curiosity about this woman grew even more.

As Murphy remained deep in prayer, Connor stood, crossing himself simultaneously. Turning his attention back to Lourdes, he saw that her eyes were surveying every inch of the cathedral, mouth slightly agape in wonder. As he began to stride in her direction, her eyes flashed to his form instantly. She commented quietly, "Didn't know the Saints actually prayed."

Connor flashed a winsome smile. "We wouldn't really be livin' up to our names if we didn't, now would we?" Not taking his gaze off of her form, he said. "Come with me."

Lourdes tilted her head in curiosity as he beckoned for her to follow him. Hesitating for only a moment, she did as he had requested, falling into step with him as they reached a side door. Wrapping his jacket more tightly around him as they exited the cathedral, Connor led her down a rocky path and out into the massive graveyard. She furrowed her brows in question, but decided not to say anything.

Seeing that Connor had stopped in front of a simple tombstone, Lourdes read the engraving:

_Here Lies_

_**David Della Rocco**_

_Beloved friend of_

_The MacManus Brothers_

_Deus est intus_

"A very close friend?" Lourdes whispered, almost carefully, for she had seen the slump of Connor's shoulders when they had stopped.

"Aye." He replied quietly, crossing himself as he kept his head slightly bowed. "He was killed by Yakavetta a little more than a year ago. Murph and I were in the room when it happened."

Frowning, Lourdes lithely stepped behind him, gradually extending her arm. Almost hesitantly, she placed a comforting hand on Connor's shoulder. She felt him tense slightly at her touch, but after a few moments, he twisted his head so that he could see her. "I'll admit to ye that he wasn't a saint himself, but he didn't deserve to die the way he did. He was a good man."

"I'm sorry." It was all that Lourdes could offer the Saint at the moment, for she was at a loss for words. "I know how hard it must be."

Connor didn't want her to think of her mother's death, so he said, "This is why we do what we do." He straightened his spine, as if regaining his strength, as he turned to face her fully. "To prevent shit like this from happening to good people; to people who have loving families, friends, people who just live their lives." Exhaling heavily, he outstretched a hand towards her, placing his palm softly upon the side of her cheek. "People like ye."

Lourdes closed her eyes momentarily, feeling the shivers running down her spine as Connor touched her. She sighed, pressing her face into his calloused palm. She saw the blaze that ignited in Connor's eyes as she did this, his eyes now a dark shade of blue. She smiled. She couldn't explain it, but Lourdes felt so safe whenever she was with this man, even when they didn't see eye to eye. She felt so protected from harm that even if all hope seemed lost, she was somehow certain that _he_ would be there to help her.

In a move that surprised Connor, Lourdes placed her hands upon his chest gingerly, stepping closer to him. Then, she rested her head upon his shoulder, the length of their bodies now touching. Wrapping his arms protectively around her waist, he pulled her in towards him, resting his chin upon her head. It was then that Connor felt such a longing to protect her, regardless of what had transpired between them in the past. Wrapped in each other's arms, they remained like so for a few minutes, oblivious to the world around them.

That was, until they heard Murphy clear his throat behind them.

Almost jumping off of each other in alarm, they both became slightly embarrassed. Taking deep breaths, they looked away from one another, throwing nervous smiles towards Murphy's direction.

Murphy only grinned widely in the midst of their discomfort. "Looks like some people _finally_ made up."

vvv

The three lounged in the waiting room of the Boston Hospital until the nurse called them in. Knowing exactly where Sean's room was, Lourdes led the way, the Saints following her closely behind. Firstly knocking on the door, she listened for any sign of Sean. When she heard his cheerful voice, she pushed the door open, making her way inside. The MacManus brothers remained outside, standing on either side of the door, giving the two a moment of privacy before they made their appearance. Upon seeing Sean standing up beside his bed and packing his backpack, Lourdes squinted out of confusion.

"Lourdes!" Sean rightly boomed as she entered, picking her up off of the ground as he embraced her excitedly. "Guess who's back on the force?"

"You seem to have recovered quickly." She punched his jaw playfully, then returned his embrace. She said, almost hesitantly, "Nice to have you back, Sean."

"So…what'd I miss?"

Lourdes blew the hair out of her face as she deeply exhaled. In a mockingly nonchalant tone, she said, "Well, other than the fact that I almost got murdered a week ago, nothing really."

"Fuck's sake!" The tall Irishman exclaimed, his eyes inflamed with anger. "Nobody told me! Ye alright, though? Have ye killed the bastards responsible?"

"Not yet, but I intend to find them, and find them soon." At this point, Lourdes' eyes considerably darkened, her smile completely disappearing. "Sean, I've known you for more than three years. We've become good friends ever since then…" She trailed off, still unable to believe that she was suspecting him of the crime, "But I…I have reason to believe that…_you_ are behind all of this."

Sean dropped his jaw so low that Lourdes thought it was going to hit the ground. "Ye've got to be fuckin' _kiddin'_ me, Lourdes." When he made a move to touch her, she recoiled immediately. The Irishman scoffed in disbelief, holding his hands in the air. "Why would I wanna kill a good friend? What'll I gain from it?" He dug his index finger upon his chest several times. "_I_ was the one shot here – _twice_, for fuck's sake – in the first place! If I had wanted to make it a show, I could've just at least _pretended_ to get hurt!" With a shake of his head, he actually admitted seriously, "Besides, I would never touch an inch of ye unless it were for a pleasurable purpose, one that would be pleasin' to the both of us."

Disregarding the latter statement, Lourdes took a harsh step forward. "There's a mole on this team, Sean." Her jaw tightened, her brows crinkling. "And I'm not going to rest until I find out who it is."

"It sure as hell ain't fuckin' me, so point that pretty finger somewhere else!"

It was clear to Lourdes that Sean was taking a great offense to her 'finger pointing'. She couldn't blame him. After all their years of friendship, they _did_ have a certain level of trust. Plus, one of the transcripts that Smecker had uncovered from the Westin Hotel read that it was February 13, and Sean was still bound to the hospital bed. He couldn't have possibly made that call, let alone appear at the hotel without being undetected. Running her fingers through her hair as she closed her eyes, Lourdes said to herself more than to Sean, "It can't be you. I know it can't be you."

"And it isn't, alright?" Sean moved closer to her, delicately placing his hands on her shoulders. "I wouldn't hurt you, ever." He then began to brush the tendrils of her hair away from her face, letting his thumb brush upon her cheeks. "And like I said, the only reason why I'd ever touch you is…"

Lourdes brought her hand to his, squeezing lightly. Sean stopped mid-sentence, his twinkling blue-green eyes surveying her face. "Listen," she began, retrieving her hand," There's more that you have to know." Turning her head towards the door, she gently called out, "Connor? Murphy?" As the MacManus brothers composedly entered the room, Lourdes proceeded to introduce the three men. "Sean, this is Connor and Murphy MacManus. Connor and Murphy, this is Special Agent Sean Flannagan."

Instead of the cordial greetings that Lourdes had expected of the men, she saw that they only stared at one another in complete silence. Eyeing each man, she pressed her lips into a thin line in confusion, turning to each of them alternately for an answer. "What is it?" she questioned, "Do you know each other already?"

With a simple nod, Connor replied, "He's our cousin."

vvv

**Translation:**

Deus est intus **God is within**

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**A/N: **Sweet revelation, eh? lol What'd you guys think? What do you think is going to happen or what do you want to happen? Don't forget to review! xx IFHD


	14. Ally

**A/N: **Thank you to IrishSaints, Effigy, Jade Opal and wolfchick11 for reviewing and thank you for reading! Hope you guys are really liking it so far. Again, if you get the chance, check out my other Boondock story, **"Even in Heaven"**. I seem to be working more on that story than this one, so check it out and see if you like it. Enjoy this next installment! xx IFHD

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**Chapter 14: Ally**

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_**"Kiss My Irish Ass"**_

_**by: Flogging Molly**_

_Oh the churchbells are ringin' in the schoolyard,  
And we all went out those days  
The bully said "Mick would you fancy a rumble?"  
I said "Yes, it's time to play!"_

_Oh the nuns and the priests they grabbed their Rosaries  
As they pulled our bodies apart  
The bully said "Mick you lost the fight, but you've gained my respect!  
You fight with so much heart!"_

_We're as stubborn as mules  
With our blood on fire  
When we ain't at Sunday mass  
We'll look any man straight in his eyes and say  
Kiss my Irish ass!  
You better kiss my Irish ass!_

_Oh the husbands and wives, they had a neighborhood pack  
They called the Mackeys white trash behind our backs (White Trash!)  
I was way too young to understand that  
But if I did, I'd given it right back_

_Oh me dad, he'd be drunk on the lawn,  
Yelling and screaming like he do  
But sometimes my old man felt what he was feeling,  
Sometimes Mr. Mackey spoke the truth_

_Oh me grandpa passed through Ellis Island,  
From the greatest of the Motherlands  
For he worked, provided for his family  
He was a dedicated welding man  
And he knew right from wrong like day and night,  
He could whip any fool in a bareknuckle fight  
He talked of country like he preached of God,  
One hell of an Irishman!_

_Oh, I'm of a distant relation to John Redman,  
He was one of the greatest Irish Rebels of his day  
One bastard to another, on down the line  
And this is what my son will say:_

_You better kiss my Irish ass!_

vvv

"Last time we saw ye, ye were fat, short…" Connor casually counted with his fingers, lips pursed thoughtfully.

Murphy cleared his throat, adding with a snicker, "And kinda ugly."

Lourdes had to bite her bottom lip in order to refrain from laughing out loud as she sat in between the three men at the kitchen table. With a wary, mocking expression, Sean threw a handful of peanuts at both men in annoyance, and then pointed at them stiffly. "That was fuckin' _years_ ago, ye bastards! But look how fuckin' good lookin' I am now, fuckers!" He puffed up his chest like a penguin, flexed his arm muscles, and held his chin upright to illustrate. "It's gotta make ye both jealous to look at me now, aye?"

The twins shared an amused glance as Lourdes looked on in mere delight. "We wouldn't take it _that_ far, Flannagan." Connor took a huge swig of his beer, exhaling as he replaced the bottle upon the table.

"What've we got to be jealous of?" With a smirk, Murphy retaliated, resting his arms behind his head. "We're good lookin' fuckers, too. Ain't that right, Lourdes?"

"Um…"

Murphy immediately snapped his fingers, then pointed at her with a wagging fingers. "Ye see that? She completely agrees!"

With a snort, Sean leaned in further into the middle of the table, eyebrows raised high, playfully. "But Lourdes has the hots for me. Can either of ye bastards say that? I don't _think_ so."

Connor's orbs flickered to Lourdes' form, as if waiting for her response. She had no idea that she was under such scrutiny at this moment. Flinging an empty pack of cigarettes at Sean, she retorted in good humour, "Maybe in your dreams, Flannagan."

The twins immediately burst out into laughter, simultaneously pointing at Sean and banging their hands on the table. Attempting to save his deflating pride, Sean slinked an arm around Lourdes' shoulders, saying, "Now, _leannán_, no need to be modest now!"

Shaking her head at the banter between the men, she questioned, "So what's your history? You never once mentioned you had family in Boston, Flannagan."

"Didn't think the twins were in town." He answered simply, retrieving his arm. "Last time I saw these boneheads was probably eight years ago, when we were all livin' in Dublin. When their Da got moved to Haog Maximum Security Prison, they packed their shit and left the country without tellin' the relatives where they were goin'." Sean received acceding nods from the brothers. "Never heard from 'em till, well, now."

Murphy pursed his lips, then raised an eyebrow. "So an agent for the _An Garda Síochána_, aye? How'd the fuck did _that_ happen, Sean? Thought you were gonna be some kinda businessman or some shit like that."

"Interesting story, that is." Sean's eyes then flashed to Connor, his expression almost sour. "After Con here stole my girlfriend," at this statement, all eyes landed on Connor, who winced, "I needed an outlet for my suppressed anger, ye see. Thought I'd try law enforcement so I'll have the chance to kick the shit out of some criminals. Then, after a couple of years, I was assigned to Lourdes' team. Been workin' with her for three years now." As he finished, Sean found that the room had gone completely silent. Tilting his head in question, he twisted his head to face Connor. "Don't worry about Aileen, Con. The past's in the past. Blood's thicker than water."

"Still wasn't right." Connor's voice pierced through the silence, his eyes meeting Sean's. "Things got a little outta hand, and…"

"I said don't worry 'bout it! 'Twas a long time ago," chuckled Sean, patting Connor repeatedly on the back. Though, his forgiveness still didn't erase the guilt that Connor felt.

"Ye seein' her again, then? Heard she was here in Boston and has been here for a few months."

Connor's voice became noticeably softer as he said, "From time to time, but not recently."

Although keeping a calm exterior, Lourdes felt her heart lurch at this new revelation. _Guess he wasn't telling the truth about his love life_, she snorted to herself, feeling her heart constrict even more at the fact that Connor had even lied about _that_. She battled with herself. Why was this man's personal life of such importance to her? She knew that she was attracted to him, yes, but who wouldn't be? Did she _really_ think that something was going to happen between her and Connor, especially being in _this _situation?

"Yer job must make it hard, then." Sean's deep voice brought Lourdes back to the present, her eyes finally focusing on the men around her. The agent took another drag of his cigarette. "The Saints of South Boston, huh? Nifty."

"Fuckin' right it is!" Murphy beamed proudly, crossing his arms. "How long have ye known?"

"Just for a couple of months. Surprised the shit out of me when I found out." It was then that he cleared his throat, looking at Lourdes sheepishly. "Boss, ye understand that I couldn't say anythin', aye? They obviously wouldn't kill us, but ye know…I just couldn't do it. Blood's more important than fuckin' protocol. Plus, I didn't know how ye would've handled it."

"I understand." Lourdes replied authoritatively, though thoughts still lingering on the previous subject about this 'Aileen'. She suddenly felt even _more_ betrayed by Connor, even though she knew that most of what had transpired between them in the past month was a lie. Unable to understand these new feelings, she stood from the table, gaining the attention of the three men. She proclaimed, "Gonna go catch some air. I should leave you three to do some more catching up on your own." Without another word, she took her coat and disappeared into the backyard.

Connor's fingers tightened around his beer, his eyes following her form until she was out of sight. Only a few moments after she had left, he pushed his chair back, dashing after her. In the middle of a conversation, Murphy and Sean were both left in the kitchen, dumbfounded. They became so silent that crickets could be heard nearby.

"The fuck was that about?" Sean stared at the screen door, though seeing no signs of either Lourdes or Connor.

Murphy winced, taking a last gulp of his beer as he pointed his cigarette in their direction. "I think my bro has a thing for yer boss."

vvv

"Hey."

Lourdes swirled around at the sudden sound of Connor's voice as she sat on a marble bench. Slightly startled by his unexpected appearance, she tucked her hair behind her ear, surveying him. She furrowed her brows, seeing the MacManus brother in mere jeans and a black t-shirt. "Where's your coat? You're going to catch your death out here."

Ignoring her statement, Connor promptly took a seat beside her, blue eyes boring into hers. "Look, Lourdes, I know it must be hard for ye right now," she crinkled her brows at this, though continued to listen intently, "but he gotta know that we lied to ye to protect ye. Yer findin' out all of these things, but it's…it's different now." She could see the frustration in Connor's eyes as he tried to explain is turbulent emotions, "I never meant for any of this to happen, for…"

"For what to happen?" Lourdes was now visibly confused, trying to understand exactly what Connor was saying.

It seemed as though the cat had caught Connor's tongue. He blurted out, "For ye to get hurt." Pushing at his knees, he then stood, running his fingers through his spiked hair. "Now Sean's here, and he's involved…"

"Sean can take care of himself," Lourdes reassured him, standing as well. "What we need to do is find out who the mole is, and that's the only thing we should be concentrating on." She seemed to have said this more to herself than to Connor. "Finding the mole will lead us to O'Sullivan, of that I'm sure of. We do more investigation, then we make some arrests. Case solved, and let that be the end of it."

"Ye make it sound so simple."

"I just don't want things to be more complicated than they already are!" Taken aback that she had actually raised her voice, she put the back of her hand to her lips, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "Right now, I don't care about what's happening in my personal life. I just don't want to sit here and do nothing while these sons of bitches roam around Boston like they own the place."

"Then let's do something about it." With that statement, Connor turned on his heel and walked back inside the house.

vvv

The four spent a few days meticulously planning their next move under the guidance of Il Duce. In the process, Sean was completely brought up-to-date on what was going on. Without a word of protest, he loyally helped the three with their next mission: to find and trap the mole. He and Lourdes would regularly visit the MacManus brothers at their apartment on McGowan Street, bringing the Saints more information about each of their agents and any leads on O'Sullivan and his followers. In a matter of days, they had managed to uncover indispensable information about O'Sullivan's camp and their routines.

"I got it!" Sean proclaimed out of the blue, instantaneously standing, causing his chair to topple over behind him. "Stakeout at Sin Bin for Keiran O'Sullivan and his bastard followers, lady and twins!" With a cry of gleeful triumph, he dropped the sheet of information that he had been holding upon the table, cracking his knuckles in victory.

"Sin Bin?" Lourdes' confused expression immediately informed the three men that she was unfamiliar with the name. "Is that in Boston?"

Sean had to blink a few times in order to register what she had just asked. Then, he animatedly hit his forehead with the palm of his hand, giving out a low groan. "Sin Bin? Boss, ye haven't heard of Sin Bin?" Sean exclaimed as though it were a…sin. As if motioning for much needed help, he gawked at the twins. "_Please_ tell me yer familiar with this _fine_ establishment!"

"Aye, we're familiar with it." Murphy replied as the brothers' eyes each other with a knowing smirk.

"But probably not in the way that yer thinkin' of." Connor added, shooting a glance at Sean. "If ye weren't our cousin, ye would probably be on our hitlist right now for goin' to that place."

"Riiiiight." Sean rolled his eyes in utter skepticism, obviously not believing that the brothers had never gone into the club for their own pleasure. "But anyway, it's an establishment where men enjoy…er…_fine_ dancing."

"So it's a strip club." Lourdes crossed her arms, visibly unimpressed. "Why am I not surprised that _you're_ so excited about a stakeout there?"

"It just so happens that O'Sullivan and his fucker followers make weekly visits there." Sean presented photographic evidence to the three. The twins glanced at every image, which brought back memories to when Rocco had asked for them to make a hit there. "I don't really know what we'll precisely do when we see them there, but I just thought that it was worth a shot to see who these men are and their numbers. We need to know who we're dealing with here, and how many of them there are."

"And yer gonna be professional about all of this?" It was Connor's turn to be skeptical as he pursed his lips at Sean in serious question.

"'Course I am, cuz. Professional is my middle name."

"Thought it was Fergus," interjected Murphy.

"It is," Sean flailed his hands in the air, "but ye know what I mean." With a beaming smile, he twisted his entire body to face Lourdes. "But since it _is_ a predominantly male club…"

Judging from his animated expression and tone of his voice, Lourdes did not like the sound of this. "Y-yeah?" She answered cautiously, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"We'll need a mole to find the mole, so to speak. Someone who could, ye know…_fit in_ with the exotic dancers."

At this statement, Lourdes' arms immediately shot up, then fell on the table. "Sean, you have_ got_ to be _kidding me_!"

Connor and Murphy merely eyed each other once more, unable to hide their pleased smiles at the thought of Lourdes dressing up – or dressing down – to pose as a stripper. They continued to observe the emphatic exchange between the two agents, finding it to be the greatest amusement of the day thus far.

In their silence, Lourdes then bolted out of her chair so quickly that it fell over, mimicking Sean's. She pointed a firm finger at each one of the men alternately. "You three are _not_ serious. I'm not going to be a…a _stripper_!"

"I gotta admit, Sean _does_ have a point, Agent Villamor." Murphy proclaimed as seriously and 'professionally' as he could muster without bursting into complete laughter. "Easiest way to be undetected. And to make quick money." He shrugged a shoulder, giving the notion a thought. "Besides, it can't be _that_ bad, now could it?"

"And _we_," Sean extended his hands, gesturing to him and the twins emphatically, "will go as patrons, so that we will _also_ be undetected."

"I'm going to fire you for this brash scheme of yours, Flannagan." Lourdes stated, though only half serious. "And you two, doesn't that go against what you stand for?" She countered, shooting an accusatory look at the MacManus brothers. At this assertion, the brothers' shoulders slumped identically as frowns appeared on their handsome faces. Wanting to knock the lights out of Sean for his outrageous idea, Lourdes tried to control herself by remaining quiet. Sean, though, mistakenly took her silence to be a sign of acquiesce. So, placing his hands behind his head, he proclaimed,

"Then that settles it! Yer going undercover as a stripper."

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**A/N:** So what'd you think of that? Do you like Sean? haha Don't forget to review! xx IFHD


	15. Sin Bin

**A/N: Hey guys! A big thank you to my faithful reviewers Jade Opal, wolfchick11 and IrishSaints. You guys are awesome. Thank you for reading as well! I hope you enjoy this next one. Alas, I am getting very busy, since I'm preparing to work in Dublin this summer! I'm so excited! But aye, I'll try to work as hard as I can on this story, as well as "Even in Heaven". Don't forget to review! **

**xx **

**IFHD**

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**Chapter 15: Sin Bin**

Lourdes surveyed herself in the mirror, making the finishing touches on her hair and make-up. She was still unable to fathom how she got into this particular situation, even though she obviously outranked Sean. Though, she had to admit that his idea for her to pose as an exotic dancer _was_ the most inconspicuous way for her to do her investigation at Sin Bin. After she had protested and argued with her fellow agent (much to the twins' amusement, of course), she had finally agreed, though making it clear that she would _not_ go on stage and that she would only show as much skin as needed so as to be convincing. Now, she was at Il Duce's home, preparing for the long-awaited stakeout.

She was caught off-guard by a soft rap on the door, followed by the turning of the doorknob. As Murphy casually walked in, Lourdes had just finished placing on a white, silk negligee, which _somewhat_ managed to cover her up. "Whoa, hey!" he immediately placed a hand above his eyes, holding the other up in surrender. "I didn't see anythin', I swear."

"Don't worry, Murphy, it's alright." She replied, tying the front strings into a bow. "This thing isn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be."

Cautiously, the twin peeked through his fingers first, then slowly lowered his hand from his face when he saw her smile. Upon fully seeing her, he immediately gave out a low, unabashed whistle. "Whoa. Conn's gonna love _this_." He mumbled more to himself than to Lourdes. Peering out of the doorway, he shouted, "Hey, Con, ye gotta come see this!"

Lourdes was utterly horrified. "Murphy!" she hissed, ready to slap him upside the head, arm held out to her side. Though, just as she reached the centre of the room, Connor suddenly appeared at the doorway. This caused Lourdes to stop cold in her tracks, holding her breath in the process. Connor's eyes seemed to scrutinize every inch of her in a slow manner, staring at her from her toes, then up to her eyes. To her own surprise, Lourdes actually felt _embarrassed_. Crossing her arms and clearing her throat, she finally managed to gain Connor's attention. Well, eye-to-eye contact, at least. Murphy only giggled to himself before patting Connor on the back and swiftly leaving the room. Almost identical to his brother, the only thing that Connor had managed to articulate at that moment was,

"Whoa."

"Alright, enough with the gawking!" Lourdes scoldingly slapped Connor on the arm. "You look like you haven't seen a woman in skanky clothing before."

_No, it's just that I haven't seen _you_ in skanky clothing before_, Connor mused to himself, a smirk finally tugging at his lips. He didn't know how he had managed it, but it took all of his self-control and will-power not to rightly _pounce_ on her. She could've seen him fidgeting in his socks if she had looked closely enough. But thankfully able to somehow find his voice he explained, "Sorry, Lourdes, but I have to admit that I think you'd make a more convincing stripper than Smecker."

Lourdes rolled her eyes warily. "Thanks for the well-thought compliment."

"Anytime."

"You Irishmen almost ready? It's been at least two hours." Lourdes quickly placed her coat on, clearing her belongings from the bedroom before she exited.

"Almost." Connor tilted his head towards the stairs, grinning. "Da and Sean are still gettin' acquainted."

At his motion, Lourdes peered down the stair railings, seeing Il Duce and Sean standing face to face below her.

"Sean Flannagan, I still can't believe it's really ye." Il Duce really didn't seem to believe his eyes, examining Sean as though here were a mere apparition. "Last time I saw ye, I was holdin' ye in me arms when ye were a wee bairn, just six months old." He added after a few moments, "Almost dropped ye, too."

"Ye probably did." Murphy countered quick-wittedly with a booming laugh, managing to gain a slap upside the head from Sean. He only laughed gleefully, flicking his fingers at Sean's ear in retaliation.

Sean then noticed Lourdes and Connor on the second floor, still watching the exchange between the three Irishmen. Folding his arms, he called out, raising his eyebrows repeatedly, "So…which outfit did you come up with?"

Connor stepped forward at this, barking, "Hey, she ain't here to give ye a show, alright?" Lourdes looked astonishingly at Connor as he continued, jogging down the stairs, "Look, we've spent enough time here. Everything's in the cars, so let's get this shit started."

Sean leaned backwards towards Murphy as he watched Connor leave the house, saying from the corner of his lips, "What's up _his_ arse?"

"Ye." Giving Sean another slap upside the head with a snicker, Murphy quickly turned and ran towards the cars, with Sean in pursuit not far behind him.

vvv

Lourdes and Sean zigzagged through the busy Boston streets. The city never seemed to sleep, even if it was nearing midnight. Not far away from them, Connor and Murphy drove in another car, following closely behind.

Lourdes winded down Sean's radio as she questioned, "Where's your uncle?"

"Gone to the Police Station." He replied, checking the rearview mirror for his cousins. "He's letting Smecker in on what we're doin' tonight and is probably goin' to do more investigatin'. The more of these bastards we can identify and find the better."

"The sooner the better," Lourdes added as she gave out a long exhale, placing her fingers upon her temples. "I just can't believe that either Isolde, Braden or Craig ratted us out. What could they have to gain from any of this?"

"I reckon it's Craig. Never liked him in the first place," snorted Sean, giving his shoulders a quick shrug. "But who knows? The only thing I'm thinkin' is that if they're helping O'Sullivan, they'll probably get a cut of his profits. Get rid o' us, get some cash." He scoffed, "Never knew we were worth that much, eh?"

"I _know_ it isn't Isolde." Lourdes wrinkled her face in doubt. "Or at least I have faith that it's not her. I know her well enough to know that she wouldn't do something like this."

"I guess we might find out tonight. That'll rest our minds, somewhat." Turning the wheel, Sean shot her a glance, a thought flashing through his mind. Hesitating for a moment, he finally asked, "So what's up between ye and my cousin?"

"What? Who?"

"Connor."

"Nothing." Lourdes didn't find it difficult to keep a straight face, though her heart involuntarily leapt at the question. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's so fuckin' obvious that the bloke fancies ye! He might as well wear a bleedin' sign on his forehead and walk around Boston." Sean answered exasperatedly, though managing a tiny smirk. "I _know_ ye've noticed. Yer too good of an agent not to have had."

Lourdes gulped. She tried again, "_Nothing_ is going on, Sean. We're merely working together." She looked out the window, attempting to escape Sean's prying eyes. "Besides, he's already involved."

He scoffed, "Yeah, remind me again, will ye." He then shook his head in humour. "Con and I, well, we share a history of fightin' over girls. That's just how it is between us." He gave his shoulders a shrug. "He was always a ladies' man, as ye can probably tell, so it wasn't hard for him to get a woman. Even mine."

Lourdes frowned, noticing the slump in Sean's shoulders. "He meant to do it?"

"Nah." Sean gave her a flippant gesture, half-smiling. "Aileen and I, we were almost done. Guess she decided to lean on Connor's shoulder, and he decided to offer it to her, so to speak. Seems like they're still seein' each other."

"Yeah." Lourdes replied weakly, keeping her eyes fixed to the twinkling city lights outside. She said inwardly, _That's just too bad._

"Alright, we're here." Looking at the rearview mirror, Sean motioned his hand for the MacManus brothers to keep driving. Their plan had been to go in separately, lest they were discovered. As their car passed by, Sean turned his attention to Lourdes once more. "Alright boss, I'm the pimp now. Gonna talk to the bouncer so that he'll let us in."

Sean exited the vehicle first. Confidently strutting towards the massive bouncers in the front, he began to speak with them. As Lourdes stepped out, he motioned his hand towards her, still reasoning with the men. Their eyes then landed on her, accepting smirks appearing on their faces. With acceding nods, they stepped out of Sean's way, making a clear path for the two to enter. At Sean's beckon, Lourdes joined him. Slinking her arm around him, they entered the club side by side.

"Alright Lourdes, I got ye in. It's up to ye from this point." Sean hissed, pulling her in closer as he leaned into her ear, "I'll go find the twins."

With a nod, Lourdes began to walk backstage, trying to find the dressing area. Walking further into the club, she followed the chorus of voices that sounded from several rooms. Peeking into one of the white rooms, she saw eight exotic dancers before her, sitting in front of vanities. Cautiously walking in, she immediately caught their attentions.

"Look what the cat dragged in." A woman with long, blonde hair (and very think eyelashes, in Lourdes' opinion), greeted her good-humouredly, giving her a smile. "New around here, suga?"

"Just got in tonight." Lourdes continued to stand awkwardly at the doorway, once again being scrutinized from head to toe. "What's the procedure at this joint?"

"You just missed the special tonight, honey." Another woman replied, pulling back her wavy, brown hair into a think ponytail. "You gotta wait to dance till tomorrow night. It's Ladies' Night now."

Lourdes' face scrunched up in utter confusion. "Ladies' Night?"

vvv

"Murph, where the fuck are ye goin'?"

"Shut up, I fuckin' hear people down here."

"Fuckin' idiot, why'd we come through the back door?"

"Ye wanted to be incon-fucking-spicuous, so we used the back door!"

With a grunt of annoyance, Connor continued to creep his way through the back rooms of Sin Bin, having no idea where he was going. With Murphy just a few paces in front of him, they made their way blindly through the establishment, with minimal light guiding them and no knowledge of the layout of this particular area of the club.

Without warning, Murphy shot his arm out, stopping his brother mid-step. "Wait, ye hear somethin'?"

Before Connor could even get a word out, the stage curtains flew wide open. What it revealed to the MacManus brothers were something that they never would have expected: dozens of screaming women, all standing and eagerly waiting, in front of the stage. Needless to say, the two resembled twin deer caught in headlights. Frozen at the middle of the stage, they merely stared at the restless crowd in front of them. The host, who stood just a few feet in front of them, turned impatiently. Covering his microphone with a hand, he hissed, "You two dancin' or what?"

"Uh…" Connor croaked weakly.

"Of course we are!" Murphy cried out, bobbing his head to the music. Walking towards the front of the stage in confident strides, he held out his arms and pursed his lips, much to the adoration of the screeching women.

"Allllright!" The host regained his smile as he began to speak into the microphone once more. He turned his attention back to the audience, holding an arm out. "Looks like we have our first two dancers…" he squinted his eyes in an attempt to read his cue card in the flashing, rainbow lights, "…Sir Sexalot and Mr. Woody!"

Another chorus of cheers followed. Connor was horrified.

Murphy was having the time of his life.

Lourdes returned from the dressing room, removing a handful of jewelry as she searched for the twins and Sean in the crowd. Pushing her way through as politely as possible, she spotted Sean at the back corner of the club. His eyes were glued to the stage, his expression stunned. Following his gaze, Lourdes' eyes landed on…

…Murphy swinging his t-shirt wildly above his head and Connor doing an awkward dance, something resembling a hip thrust.

"Fuck!" she cursed out loud, panic coursing through her veins. _This was supposed to be inconspicuous? _Alarmed, she zigzagged her way through the crowd once more towards Sean. Reaching him, she swung him around as she pulled at his arm. "What the hell is going on, Flannagan? What are they _doing_ up there?"

"What are they _not_ doin'?" Sean gave out a low groan, running his hand over his face. "They must've gone through the back door. The fuckin' curtains went up just as they were walkin' by."

"Murphy's trying to save it, but he's only making it worse!" Lourdes closed her eyes, trying to regain her composure. "Whoever the mole is will recognize Connor. We better stop them quickly before…" She abruptly stopped her speech when she saw a familiar face in one of the booths, not far from where she stood. To her disbelief, there sat Keiran O'Sullivan, and right across from him…Agent Craig Malley.

"Oh my God." She felt for Sean's arm, not breaking her stare. "It's Craig."

"What?" Sean followed her stare, eyes landing right on their 'fellow agent'. His blood began to boil. "Fuckin' bastard! I _knew_ it was him!" He felt for the gun in his holster eagerly, baring his teeth in rage. "Get my cousins off the fuckin' stage, boss. I'll make sure these two sons of bitches don't get away."

"Wait." Lourdes held his sleeve tightly, face turning into stone. "Be careful, Sean. Their cronies can be everywhere."

With a nod, Sean disappeared into the crowd, out of Lourdes' sight. Lowering her head, she made her way through the crowd of screaming women, trying to get right into the front. Connor immediately saw her and happily jumped off the stage. The women cried gleefully at this, slinking bills into his trousers.

"We're done!" Connor waved his hands wildly at the host, who nodded in understanding. Taking Lourdes by the hand, much to the disappointment of the sea of women, they made a mad dash through the crowd and ran into the backstage area. Finally alone, they caught their breaths, saying simultaneously,

"The mole is Craig Malley."

With a nod, Connor placed his shirt back on. He muttered to himself, "Ma's going to kill me for this."

"What should we do?" Lourdes knew _exactly_ what she would've done under protocol: calmly face the suspect, show him your badge, and ask them kindly to come with you for questioning. Though in this instance, Lourdes didn't think that Craig would follow _any_ type of protocol. She knew he was more likely to _shoot_ her than to speak to her. So now, she turned to Connor to make a decision. "There are too many people in here."

"I know." Connor pressed his lips into a thin line, looking back behind him to see if anyone else had followed. "Fuck, where the hell is Murphy?"

"Holy shit, that was fuckin' amazin'!" Murphy cried breathlessly, still pulling out the bills from his trousers as he strode to their side. "Did ye see how many…"

Connor pointed a stern finger at his nose, his expression unamused. "Listen, ye get a fuckin' hold of yerself. Craig Malley is the mole. He's in the booth with O'Sullivan."

"Then let's go kill the motherfuckers." Murphy retorted easily with a shrug, feeling for the guns around his ankles. "That's what we came here to do, right?"

Lourdes pressed a hand on his chest, halting him as he began to walk towards the direction of the stage. "We can't endanger the lives of these people, Murphy. If we're going to start a firefight…"

Lourdes didn't have time to finish her sentence, because right then and there, they heard shots being fired, followed by deafening screams. With eyes wide, Lourdes unthinkingly ran into the middle of the club, concern for Sean clouding her judgment. She gasped as bullets ripped through the chairs beside her, missing her only by a few inches. Before she could see who was shooting at her, Connor lunged in her direction, pulling her down with him as he fired his gun. Covering her body with his, he continued to shoot at the men he recognized as O'Sullivan's followers. Lourdes ducked her head, though felt at her ankle for her gun.

"Sean!" she screamed at Connor, her eyes flicking wildly across the club. "Where's Sean?"

"I don't see him!" Connor cried, reloading his gun. He twisted his head back. "Murph, where the fuck are ye?"  
"Right behind ye!" Murphy bellowed, shooting with two guns as he dove onto the ground. He landed right beside Lourdes and his brother, the three being shielded by bullet-covered booths. Squinting his eyes in confusion, he yelled through the gunfire, "Who the fuck am I shootin' at?"

"The ones who are shooting at you!" Lourdes yelled in reply, pushing herself from the floor and crawling from underneath Connor. Before he could stop her, she dashed behind another booth, firing her gun. "Sean? Sean, answer me!"

"Hold your fire!" Lourdes heard as she continued to hide behind the booth. The voice continued, "Go, get outta here!" From the corner of her eye, she saw that Murphy and Connor continued to shoot. Peeking her head slightly from the booth, she could see half a dozen of O'Sullivan's men running and ducking, exiting the club from side doors. She screamed in frustration at the thought of them getting away.

When the club was deathly silent, Lourdes looked again, this time seeing only Craig…holding Sean at gunpoint. Bolting out from behind the booth with her gun drawn, she screamed, "Let him go, Craig!"

"Yeah?" Craig jerked Sean around to face her, gun still pointing at his forehead. "And what are ye gonna do? Shoot me?"

"Drop. Your. Gun." Lourdes commanded slowly and firmly, inching her way closer and closer to them with little side-steps. "Why would you do this, Craig?" She then questioned, the pains of betrayal written all over her expression. "We work to protect people, to solve crimes, to bring _justice_ to families. Why would you have us all murdered?"

"For money, you whore, what else?" Craig gritted his teeth, pressing the gun closer to Sean's head. "Ten fuckin' years in this agency, and I get treated like shit."

"You should've joined a union." Lourdes scoffed with a roll of her eyes, still not backing down.

"Little Miss Perfect, eh, Villamor?" Craig threw his head back, giving her a sardonic laugh. "Yer fuckin' blind. Ye have no idea how corrupt this force is."

"Because of people like you!" Lourdes retorted, hands still not budging from their strained position. "Now let him go!"

In a rash, unexpected move, Connor stepped out from behind the booth, gun withdrawn. This gained Craig's attention for a split second. Taking his chance, Sean used this momentary distraction to his advantage. In a flash, he moved from underneath Craig's grasp and out of the gun's path. Elbowing him as hard as he could, Sean disarmed Craig, the gun sliding from them a few meters away. As Sean head-butted him, Craig staggered backwards, fully releasing him. Knowing that he had lost the battle and was a lone fish in a barrel, Craig quickly slipped out of the club from the front doors, barely dodging Lourdes' flying bullets.

vvv

**A/N: This was one of my fave chapters to write. What'd you guys think? xx IFHD**


	16. Leverage

**A/N: Thank you to all those that read and reviewed! You guys keep me going. Enjoy this next one! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 16: Leverage**

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_**"First Time"**_

_**By: Lifehouse**_

_We're both looking for something  
We've been afraid to find  
It's easier to be broken  
It's easier to hide_

_Looking at you, holding my breath,  
For once in my life, I'm scared to death,  
I'm taking a chance, letting you inside._

_Feeling alive all over again,  
As deep as the sky, under my skin  
Like being in love, she says  
For the first time  
Maybe I'm wrong,  
But I'm feeling right where I belong  
With you tonight  
Like being in love  
To feel for the first time_

_The world that I see inside you  
Waiting to come to life  
Waking me up to dreaming  
Reality in your eyes_

_Looking at you,  
Holding my breath,  
For once in my life  
I'm scared to death,  
I'm taking a chance,  
Letting you inside._

_I'm feeling alive all over again  
As deep as the sky under my skin  
Like being in love, she says, for the first time  
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right  
Where I belong with you tonight  
Like being in love to feel for the first time_

_We're crashing  
Into the unknown  
We're lost in this  
But it feels like home_

_I'm feeling alive all over again  
As deep as the sky under my skin  
Like being in love, she says, for the first time  
Maybe I'm wrong, I'm feeling right  
Where I belong with you tonight  
Like being in love to feel for the first time_

vvv

"This is a fucking slaughter house."

Smecker tread labouriously through the wreckage that was Sin Bin, arms in his trouser pockets as he surveyed his surroundings. Not far behind him strode Detective Greenly, Detective Duffy and Detective Dolly, intently listening to what he was describing. Lourdes and Sean were close by, attaining as much evidence and DNA samples as they could so that they could identify not only the dead O'Sullivan cronies, but those who had escaped as well. Having already spoken with Smecker about what had happened, and with Smecker already knowing what was going to transpire, he did his best to cover up what had occurred, careful not to mention any information about the Saints to the CSI personnel.

As Lourdes searched through the corpses, she repeatedly dialed Isolde's number discreetly, trying several times when she didn't receive and answer. Furrowing her brows in concern, she zigzagged her way through other CSI personnel, reaching Sean's side after a few moments. Upon her arrival, Sean flipped his mobile closed, baring his teeth in obvious frustration. "No answer from Braden. Tried Isolde too, got nothin'."

"I'm really starting to get worried," she admitted, gritting her teeth as she held her aching arm. "They should be here with us."

"Look, we should head over to my uncle's house to give them some of this evidence and get ourselves cleaned up." He inspected the bloody and dirty mess that was his and Lourdes' attire. "Then, we'll go back to the Embassy right after to find Isolde and Braden and tell them everything, alright?"

"I hope Smecker and his detectives can cover for us." Lourdes eyed the three detectives in the distance, diligently taking notes on what he was saying. She had done so just in time to hear Greenly say,

"Maybe it was just some pissed off stripper that thought she didn't get tipped enough."

Saving Smecker the trouble of retaliation, she called out to him, motioning her head towards the door. Receiving an acceding nod from the federal agent, Lourdes and Sean bolted from the scene without another moment of hesitation.

vvv

"Would ye stop yer pacin', Con? Yer makin' _me_ nervous."

"For fuck's sake, Murph, our cousin almost got killed tonight!" Connor exclaimed in return, stopping in his tracks as he placed his hands upon the kitchen table. "Don't fuckin' blame me for bein' a little on edge right now. We don't even know what the fuck's goin' on!"

Murphy held out his hands in silent surrender. He then turned his attention to his father, who quietly smoked his pipe across from him. "So what're we gonna do 'bout O'Sullivan and the dirty agent?"

"Kill the mother fuckers, that's what!" Connor replied angrily for his father, beginning to pace once more. Exhaling sharply, his patience few thin. Having nothing else to resort to, he flipped his mobile open and began to dial Lourdes' number.

After a few tense rings, she answered. "Hey, Connor."

"Hey, ye alright?" Connor walked into the living room and plopped down on the leather couch, somewhat relieved to hear her voice.

"For the most part, yeah."

"Good." He suddenly felt at a loss for words. He managed to find his voice a few moments later and asked, "Where are ye?"

Lourdes replied with a soft laugh, "Right outside your door."

As Connor's orbs flickered upwards, he spotted Lourdes waving at him through the window. Hastily flipping his phone closed and striding purposely towards the doorway, he opened the door and ushered her and Sean inside the house. Murphy and Il Duce joined the three a few moments later, awaiting the stories from the agents.

"Smecker's there with his detectives investigating the crime scene." Sean immediately informed them, shrugging off his coat. "Six men dead in total, all O'Sullivan's men, thank God. Nobody else reported any injuries." He proceeded to hand the MacManuses the bags of evidence. "This'll help with identifying each of them, and hopefully some of the bastards that got away."

"Did you run into any trouble on the way back?" Lourdes inquired after the twins as the group gathered in the living room.

"None," Murphy replied curtly, looking through the evidence with his father. "We tried to find any sign of O'Sullivan and the dirty agent, but got nothin'."

Throughout the conversation, Connor eyed both Lourdes and Sean, seeing their unbecoming state. "Right." He stood up authoritatively, claiming everyone's attention. "Before we think of what to do next, let's yet ye two cleaned and bandaged up. Ye've both had a rough night."

Neither of the two protested to this. As Murphy retrieved some fresh clothing and bandages for Sean, Connor escorted Lourdes to the upstairs washroom.

"Did Sean tell ye what the fuck happened?" Turning on the lights, Connor began to rummage through the cupboards, trying to find anything that resembled a first-aid kid. Finally finding it underneath a pile of junk, he pulled it out, dropping it lightly on the bathroom counter.

"Craig fired at Sean first." Rolling up the sleeves of her negligee, Lourdes began to wash off the dirt and blood from her arms, wincing a little as her injuries stung. "They probably didn't even talk. With one look at Sean, Craig most likely knew that his cover was blown."

Connor's brows creased, taking out various supplies from the kit. "He knew, just like that?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." Lourdes replied, leaning her hands on the sink counter, head bowed down just a little. She then looked up, eyeing Connor through the mirror. "Craig's a smart man. He probably figured you out before I did." Turning to fully face him, she gave him a nod of thanks as he handed her alcohol and gauze bandages.

A moment of silence passed between them. Lourdes continued to clean herself up as Connor replaced the first-aid kid inside the cupboards. Exhaling, he then admitted, "You scared the shit out of me when you ran through the club. Ye could've been shot and killed right then and there, ye know?"

"It's just part of the job, Mr. MacManus. It's kinda similar to your profession." Lourdes gave him a smirk, crossing her arms. "You gotta learn to deal with it."

Overcome by such strong attraction to her, Connor's self-control waned. Without a word of warning, he stepped forward, using his arms to pin her to the washroom counter. This took Lourdes by complete surprise, arms shooting out upon reflex, hands landing on Connor's strong chest. He simply observed her, his smouldering eyes peering into hers, and then memorizing the curves of her face. Lourdes stared at him in return, holding her breath as he brought his hand to the side of her face, delicately tracing her lips with his thumb as his fingers caressed her cheek. Finding herself undone by his touch, she automatically leaned forward, pressing her body onto his. She heard Connor's laboured sigh as she did this, feeling a cold shiver run up her spine.

Ever so gently, he ran his fingers from her face, then down her neck, tracing the soft flesh that he found there. He continued, feeling the smooth silk of the negligee upon her arm, finally resting on the side of her waist. Lourdes didn't break her stare as she bit her lip, the sensation of his touch intoxicating. Automatically throwing her head back, she bared her neck to him. Instantly taking the invitation, Connor wrapped his arms around her waist. Pulling her in as he breathed in her scent, his lips languidly, greedily, traced her collar bone, and then wandered wantonly to the side of her neck. He could feel the heat emanating from her body through the thin material of the negligee as he caressed her back. It was almost too much for him.

_What the fuck are you doing?_, Lourdes' conscience suddenly screamed at her, causing the passion from her eyes to completely disappear. _Have you already forgotten about this so-called Aileen?_

That _definitely_ erased her desire for Connor.

Lourdes abruptly pulled away from his grasp, taking him by complete surprise. His eyes flickered back into focus, squinting in question, clearly disappointed, as she redid her negligee. "I have to go find Isolde and Braden." She managed to breathe out, placing her hair behind her ears. Without another word of explanation, Lourdes turned away from Connor, and then walked swiftly out the door.

She flew down the stairs, two at a time, not looking back. Taking her coat from the kitchen chair and quickly placing it on, she strode towards the living room, catching everyone's attention.

"Sean, we gotta go see Isolde and Braden." She said breathlessly, motioning her head towards the doorway. "You all set?"

"Aye, just about." He gave her a conceding tilt of the head as he gave Murphy a pat on the back in gratitude for his new clothes. "Unc, we'll talk about this later." He gave Il Duce a revering nod before leaving the house. Hopping into the car without another word passing between them, Lourdes and Sean sped off into the night, heading straight for the Irish Embassy.

vvv

Upon their arrival, nothing seemed to be amiss at the Embassy. At the front, the guards greeted them as cordially as usual, tipping their hats and stepping out of the way for them to enter. With a familiar look at the receptionist, she immediately allowed them entry through a side way, eliminating the need for them to walk through metal detectors. After the two had cleared the entrance, they immediately dashed towards a closing elevator, inquietude running through their veins.

With each click of the floor indicators, the tension grew within the agents. As the elevator climbed all the way to the top storey, they placed their hands atop their holsters, ready to shoot if necessary. After a few more seconds, the bell chimed, indicating that they were now at their destination. Carefully stepping out, they surveyed their surroundings, looking left, then right.

"Check Braden's room. I'll go to Isolde's." Lourdes hissed as she tilted her head in the other direction. With a nod of acquiesce, Sean did as he was told, still walking through the corridor with much caution in his step. Lourdes began in the opposite direction, actions identical to that of Sean's, as she crept her way to the furthest room on the left.

Placing her ear on the door, she listened carefully. Hearing not a sound in the room, she delicately wrapped her fingers around the doorknob, now holding her gun in her right hand. In a flash, she pushed the door open, gun held firmly in front of her. She held her breath.

Nothing.

"Isolde?" Lourdes quietly called out, stalking through the bedroom with her gun still held out in front of her. "Isolde, are you here?"

No reply.

"Shit." Lourdes ran her fingers through her hair as she completed searching every inch of the room. _Where could she be?_, she questioned herself, thinking that it was possible that she and Braden may have gone out for a few drinks. At least, she _hoped_ that was the case.

As she turned around to face the door, Sean suddenly appeared, startling her. "Whoa, shit!" He held up his hands in the air, finding himself suddenly at gunpoint. "It's just me!"

"How many times do I have to tell you _not_ to do that?" Lourdes gave out an exasperated grunt, finally lowering her weapon. "You have to be more careful than that, Flannagan, especially in situations like these. One of these days, I just might pull the trigger accidentally."

"I was just gonna say yer name," he lightly defended, placing his gun in his holster. "Besides, I've already been shot twice. Gettin' shot a few other times won't hurt. Well, I mean it _would_ hurt, theoretically speaking, and I _could_ possibly die, but…"

"She isn't here." Lourdes interjected, replacing her gun in her holster. "I checked every inch of this room."

"Braden isn't in his room either." reported Sean, shaking his head. "The room looked normal. No sign of struggle or anythin'. But somethin' ain't right."

With a conceding nod, Lourdes took another cursory glance around the room. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a wrinkled piece of paper on the bed, seemingly out of place. Walking towards it, she took it in her hands. As she read what it said, her eyes widened, becoming more alarmed.

"What is it?" she heard Sean ask behind her.

She turned to face him slowly, still holding the piece of paper in her hand.

"They took Isolde and Braden hostage."

vvv

**A/N: Ooh...ANOTHER problem for our heroes and heroine to solve! Still liking it so far? Let me know! xx IFHD**


	17. Reconnaissance

**A/N: Thank you to IrishSaints and wolfchick11 for reviewing and to you for reading! It seems like everyone likes "Even In Heaven" more, but I still love this story, so I think I'll continue it. I love Connor too much! haha Happy reading! xx IFHD**

vvv

**Chapter 17: Reconnaissance**

vvv

"_**Save"**_

_**By: The Rocket Summer**_

_I'm not feeling touch,  
I'm not making that much,  
And I guess I am blessed,  
But sometimes it's just hard to see it, or such._

_I'm stuck here alone in the traffic lines,  
While couples in love in the H-O-V fly by,  
I don't get it,  
I'm not asking for much,  
But everybody wants to just have something._

_So I'll be picking me up,  
Breaking me down,  
I was lost, was I found?  
I wanna feel everything.  
When everything feels wrong with me.  
Take a look,  
Embrace myself.  
Everybody wants to make it count._

_Save me,  
Cause I can never float.  
Sinking  
Amaze me,  
And I would be there holding on for life._

_Sit in there,  
And gasp it in.  
Time to strap apartment.  
The walls are blank.  
It's like they're talking to me.  
I put a picture on the wall.  
I took a chance, I took a fall.  
She took it fast and gracefully.  
I was blind and now I see._

_And I could tell,  
From the picture I could feel,  
I was sinking,  
Throw me out,  
Bring me back to life.  
The colours,  
That my eyes had never seen.  
Well I can see it now.  
_

_Save me._

vvv

Sean immediately blanched upon hearing what Lourdes had said. "Hostage?" he hissed, stalking to her side in wide strides. She merely gave him a nod, handing over to him the piece of paper. As Sean read what it said, he became immediately enraged, almost crumpling the paper in his hand. "Fuckin' bastard! Craig must've lured them out somehow without gettin' 'em suspicious and the guards up in arms."

The letter read,

_Dear Agent Lourdes Villamor,_

_If you want to see your agents again, then read this and understand it well._

_Meet me at the warehouse in front of Pier 25 at the Boston Harbour this Monday at 21:00. Don't be late. Only you and you alone should be there. If you notify the police about this, I will kill your agents immediately. You can be sure of that._

_More will be explained when we meet._

_Best regards, boss._

_Special Agent Craig Malley_

vvv

"It's a trap, Lourdes. Ye gotta know that."

As Murphy finished reading the letter, he threw the piece of paper on the coffee table in disgust, sitting back on his chair. As quickly as they had left the MacManus home, Lourdes and Sean returned, carrying the weight of the new revelation upon their shoulders. Under their protocol, they knew exactly what to do in these hostage situations. Though, they knew that things were done differently here in Boston. Moreover, the Saints did things differently here in Boston.

They were their best allies now.

"Murphy's right." Agreed Sean wholeheartedly, his face as hard as stone as he clasped his hands in front of him. "They'll kill ye for knowing what ye know."

"Then why didn't they ask for Sean?" Connor broke his stoic silence. Crossing his arms and legs, he leaned back upon the door frame, overlooking the group in the living room, lost in thought. He pointed out, "They saw him at Sin Bin last night. They must know that he knows information, too."

"Ye have somethin' they want, Lourdes." Il Duce suggested, folding his hands together as he turned to face her fully. "And they _will_ kill yer agents without a second thought unless ye give it to them. If yer agent Malley is part of the Unionists, then I am certain that this will happen. This is how they operate. They will leave none alive until they get exactly what they want."

"What could I possibly have that they want?" Lourdes cried out exasperatedly, running her fingers through her hair in simultaneous frustration and confusion. "I know about their operations, I know who they are. If they're so afraid about my exposing them, why don't they just kill me? Why take my agents, who know nothing of what's going on, as hostages? This makes no sense!"

"Lourdes is right. This _doesn't_ make any sense." It was then that Murphy stood, giving his head a shake. "This Agent Malley of yers is a pissoff. We should just take care of him before ye meet with him. That'll make things much easier, aye?"

"We don't know how many of them there are." Connor pointed out, walking to his brother's side. "If we make a hit on any of them, those agents are as good as dead. They'll think that Lourdes went to the police and ratted them out."

"The Saints can't make this hit right now." The men turned their attention to Lourdes, who stood from her chair. _Keep strong_, she told herself, taking deep breaths. She proclaimed as steadily as she could muster, "I have to go."

"Fuck's sake!" Connor cursed to himself in frustration, walking out of the room.

Murphy made a move to follow him, but changed his mind at the very last second. Instead, he gave his attention to Lourdes, who seemed startled by Connor's outburst and sudden disappearance. "We ain't gonna let ye do this alone, ye know that, aye?" Before Lourdes could protest, Murphy placed an index finger upon her lips. "For now, we'll let Sean and Da figure out what we can do. But as for ye," a mischievous smirk pulled on his lips, eyes gleaming, as he began to walk towards the basement, "I gotta show ye somethin'."

Without another word, Lourdes followed Murphy down the narrow steps, spiraling down to the basement of Il Duce's home. Holding the railings in the dark, she carefully took one step at a time, while she heard Murphy rightly _jogging_ down the stairs in front of her. As he reached the bottom, he flicked the lights on, making it _much_ easier for Lourdes to find her way down the steps. Finally reaching the bottom of the staircase, she stood beside Murphy, who simply looked in front of him in pride. Following his gaze, Lourdes let out a low whistle, surveying what was in front of her.

It was comparable to an Irish armory.

Lining the walls were various kinds of weapons, placed on display all around them. As Lourdes observed the weapons, she recognized most of them: AT-4 rocket launcher, an RPG, an HK PSG-1, a couple of FN FALs, a Remington 700…and, to her wonder, some rope. There had to be at least a couple of hundred guns and knives stocked into this one basement, a sight she had only seen in Ireland in government armories.

"My Da likes guns." Murphy explained simply with a shrug of his shoulders. "And Connor likes rope."

"I can see that." Lourdes breathed out, taking careful steps throughout the basement, still in awe at what she was seeing in front of her.

"Here." Tapping her shoulder, Murphy held out an empty bag for her. "Ye'll need this."

"What?" Confusedly, Lourdes took the bag from Murphy's grasp as he turned, busily organizing a set of guns on a table. "What will I need this for?"

"These." Scooping the guns in his arms, Murphy waddled to her side, trying to keep the weapons in balance. "If yer gonna meet this Agent Malley o' yers, ye gotta be prepared. Like I said, I think it's a trap." As he emptied his hands of the weapons, he gave her cheek a light tap. "Might as well have the protection with ye."

vvv

"Lourdes, don't do this."

Connor stood at the doorway, firsts clenched as he rested his arms to his side. Lourdes didn't reply to this as she prepared her weapons, strapping guns inside of her boots. Without looking up at him, she stated, "I don't want any of you near the harbour, you hear me?"

Completely losing his patience, Connor pursued her as she walked sternly by him, face filled with resolve. Snatching her arm in upset, he turned her around so wildly to face him that her hair swirled around her maniacally. "Would you fuckin' _listen _to me?" he rightly boomed, his grip upon her arms tightening, though careful not to hurt her. "Can't ye see that he just wants to drag ye out in the open?" He gave her an abrupt shake for good measure, making sure she was aware of what he was saying. "He's goin' to_murder_ ye, Lourdes, not only for what ye know, but for revenge. He's keepin' Isolde and Braden hostage to get ye to show yerself. How do ye know he won't kill 'em, anyway? Or if they're already dead?"

"I can't take that chance, Connor, can't you understand that?" Lourdes cried in frustration, trying to remove herself from Connor's tight grip. "They're my agents, my responsibility…my friends. I can't just sit here and do _nothing_!"

"And ye can't just knowingly walk into a suicidal situation like this!" Finally loosening his hold on her, he pulled himself away. "Yer life is something ye shouldn't gamble with, alright? Ye don't know what Malley's plannin'!"

"What other choice do I have?" She replied quietly. Without waiting for an answer, Lourdes tried to walk out of the basement once more.

"I'm not letting you go." Connor commanded, though a hint of begging was clear in his tone. He tugged at her arm once more as he walked in front of the staircase to block her path. "Don't go. There has to be some other way to do this."

"Connor, get out of my way!" She snapped in a low tone, as if trying to keep her temper in check. Her chest rose and fell as she heavily breathed in and out. "I'll only do more harm than good if I don't go. I will not be responsible for the deaths of my agents."

Connor tightened his jaw, hands now on either side of Lourdes' face. "Listen to reason, will ye? None of ye are gonna get out alive if ye go on yer own!"

When she made another move to leave, he roughly grabbed her shoulders, pushing her to the stone wall, pinning her there. She gasped at this sudden exhibition of aggression, holding his wrists as he kept his hands upon her shoulders.

"Get your hands off of me!" She screamed, her voice trembling as she continued to struggle with him.

"Foolish girl!" he spat, bringing his face closer to hers, his eyes inflamed with anger. "Can't ye see that I don't want yer fuckin' ass killed?"

Connor shook Lourdes once more, pinning her upon the wall more forcefully this time. Even though she gripped the front of his shirt in order to jerk away from him, he held her steady, blazing eyes locked to hers. In a swift motion, Lourdes raised her arm. Before either of them could blink, her palm roughly collided with Connor's face. His head snapped to the side, and he immediately pressed his hand upon his stinging cheek. Heavily breathing, Lourdes blinked repeatedly as if registering what she had just done, recoiling from Connor in the process.

"I…I'm sorry." She squeaked weakly, swallowing. She clenched her burning hand, resting it upon her lips.

Connor said nothing, though his face was as hard as stone. He released her gently, holding his arms up in surrender. Then, turning on his heel, he began to head for the staircase.

"Connor?" Lourdes called out, following him in desperation. "Connor, wait."

"What?" He barely managed to say through tight lips, straightening his spine. He didn't turn to look at her.

Lourdes walked in front of him, and then looked up so that her eyes would meet his. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in a tight embrace. He was only showing concern for her, and she knew that. At first, she felt his back stiffen at her unexpected action. But after a few moments, she felt his muscles relax, and he willingly returned her embrace. She buried her head upon his chest, feeling so remorseful for hitting him.

She gingerly began to trace the light stubble on his face, causing him to look down upon her. The coldness in his eyes was completely erased, only to be replaced by an inscrutable expression. Raising her chin ever so slowly, her tender lips met his, igniting a flame of desire within the both of them. The gentle, innocent kiss evolved into a more passionate, frantic one in only a few seconds, the two managing to catch their breaths for only a second at a time. The tips of Lourdes' fingers lingered upon Connor's jaw as he cupped her face in his hands.

Suddenly, he broke the kiss and buried his scorching lips upon her neck, pressing the length of his body upon hers. Their breaths became even more laboured, hands wildly roaming each other's bodies. Lourdes slipped her hands underneath Connor's shirt, feeling the pleasing bumps of his abdomen, as he continued his unbridled assault on her neck. He gave out a low groan as she felt higher, her hands gliding to his chest, then down to his abdomen once more. In retaliation, Connor reclaimed her lips and cupped her bottom, pressing her body even closer to his, crushing her, making her feel the desire that she had ignited within him. Lourdes let out a sigh, feeling her body becoming weak against Connor's hard exterior. Her fingers entwined with his spiky hair, as if for support, as she tilted her head back in pleasure.

"Oi? Guys?" Murphy's voice sounded from the top of the stairs, immediately breaking the trance that Lourdes and Connor were in. Pulling away from one another slowly, they listened as Murphy quickly jogged down the staircase. Connor, though, kept his arm upon the small of Lourdes' back, holding her closely as Murphy appeared. "Got some news for ye two."

"What is it?" Connor squinted his eyes in question, as did Lourdes.

"We have a plan."

vvv

**A/N: ...Finally! haha Mmm, Connor... xx IFHD**


	18. The Kill

**A/N: Thank you to those whe reviewed: Jade Opal, wolfchick11, IrishSaints. Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy this one. xx IFHD**

vvv

**Chapter 18: The Kill**

The rain poured down mercilessly upon her head, the soft pitter-patter of water droplets sounding on the pavement around her. Shutting her eyes, Lourdes felt the rivulets of water trickling down her face as she began to walk away from her vehicle with determined strides. The beauty of Boston Harbour was forgotten then, the lit skyline in the distance having no importance to her at the moment. She squinted her eyes as she surveyed the dimly lit dock, wondering if this was the particular warehouse that she was instructed to be at. Allowing all self-doubt to wash away with the rain, she placed her hands in her coat pockets, willing the cold to disappear.

She was afraid, and she knew it; but she would never unmask her fear in front of the motherfucker.

"Malley!" It unnerved her to realize how much effort it took for her to keep her voice calm and steady as she yelled at the grey building. "I'm here, just like you asked. Now show yourself!"

No reply.

In a fit of anger, she began to kick at the warehouse door, repeatedly shouting for Craig to open it. After a few moments of her screaming and kicking, someone had finally heard her. Suddenly, a buzzing noise sounded, signaling the opening of the garage door in front of her. It rose, ever so slowly, as if purposely mocking her growing impatience. Dim light shone through, gradually shining upon Lourdes' body, higher and higher as the door continued to rise. As it finally reached its peak, Lourdes could see inside the almost empty warehouse.

In the middle of the room stood a lone figure: Craig Malley.

"Glad ye could come at such short notice, boss. I was wondering if ye were goin' to show!" He had greeted her so cordially that it made Lourdes' blood boil.

"This isn't a dinner party, Malley." She retorted angrily, her mask slightly becoming undone by his cockiness. Taking a few steps forward, she kept her hard, unyielding gaze on his form. She held out her hands to her sides. "I'm here, just like you wanted. Now where's Braden and Isolde? I want them here, now."

Craig threw his head back as if truly amused by what she had said, bellowing out a laugh. "Do ye _really_ think that it's that simple? Do ye think that I went through all that fuckin' trouble just to hand 'em over to ye just like that?" he snapped his fingers once in emphasis, taking a few strides towards her. "Ye give me what I want, and I'll give ye back yer agents in one piece."

"Malley, wait."

A voice suddenly pierced through the shadows, instantly gaining both of their attentions. To Lourdes' surprise and relief, Craig took a few steps back from her being, head still twisted towards the dark figure behind him. As the figure took a few steps forward, stepping into the light, a look of recognition finally appeared on Lourdes' face.

"S-Sean?" she barely croaked out, taking a step back, obviously bewildered by his appearance. She continuously shook her head as she questioned, "W-what does this mean? What are you doing here with him?"

Attired in an all-black suit, Sean Flannagan fully stepped out of the shadows, hands loosely clasped behind his back. With his winsome smirk plastered on his face, he made his way beside Craig, fully facing Lourdes when he stopped. "I think, Agent Villamor, it's rather obvious what I'm doin' 'ere."

"I _trusted_ you!" Tears began to form in Lourdes' eyes as she pointed a guilty finger at him. "How could you betray me like this? Fuck you, Sean!"

In a fit of rage, Sean took a few quick strides, reaching her side in an instant. Roughly tugging at her hair, he pulled her head back ruthlessly, then pushed himself upon her. "If ye ever talk to me like that again, ye little bitch," hungrily, he pressed his lips upon hers, giving her a lingering kiss, "I'll fuckin' kill ye meself."

Lourdes held onto his wrists, gritting her teeth as he kept tugging on her hair. In an instant, Sean had retrieved his gun from his side pocket. Before Lourdes could blink, he had shot her leg, simultaneously releasing her. Crying out, Lourdes fell violently onto the ground, crimson liquid surrounding her. "Fuck!" she cried, holding her leg in her hands as tears ran down her face. "Fuck you, you motherfucker!"

"Don't kill her yet, Flannagan." Craig joined his side, both men now looking menacingly down upon Lourdes as she continually writhed upon the dirty ground. "I still need her. Take her and bring her to the back."

"I'll make sure she's got no weapons on her." Bending on his knees, Sean began to pat Lourdes down, from her arms, to her sides, to her legs. At this moment, they met gazes. Lourdes said nothing, her face still as hard as marble, face streaked with tears. There was a tiny glint in Sean's blue-green eyes as he gave her a small smirk. Then, tugging at her arm, he pulled her up roughly, barking, "Get up!"

Following Craig's path, Sean dragged Lourdes unceremoniously behind him. She refused to follow them the entire journey as she kicked, squirmed and screamed, crimson liquid marking her trail. "Let me go!" Her shriek echoed through the large warehouse, falling on deaf ears. Pushing as hard as she could upon Sean's back, she continued, "Motherfucker, let me go!"

Zigzagging through several corridors, they entered through an adjacent room, not far from the middle of the warehouse. Looking up upon their entrance, Lourdes spotted Isolde and Braden, both blindfolded, gagged and tied to chairs in the corner of the room. "Oh my God." She breathed out, feeling a moment of relief upon seeing them alive. "Isolde, Braden, everything's going to be alright!" She called out, trying her best to console her agents as they weakly turned towards the sound of her voice. She continued, "Are you hurt? Did they – "

"Shut the fuck up!" Craig shouted in annoyance, slamming his fist upon a wooden table. His blazing gaze ripped through Lourdes as he pointed at an empty chair. "Now sit the fuck down!"

Pushing her down harshly upon a nearby metal chair, Sean cocked a gun to his side, holding it up to Lourdes' head. "Ye better talk, ye little fuck. Or all three o' ye are dead."

"Now that we've got that settled," Craig placed his hands behind his back as he began to pace languidly in front of her. "Tell me where your father is."

Visibly confused at this unexpected question, Lourdes furrowed her brows. She squeaked, "My father? W-what do you want with my father?" She began to sway on the chair, keeping her hand on her soaked leg.

"Now _that_ is none of yer concern, _boss_." He spat mockingly, patience draining from his face. He continued louder, "Now tell me where the fucker is, or I'll kill these two in front of yer eyes right before I kill ye!"

Blood rushed to her head at the thought. Dizziness began to take hold of her. "I don't know where he is!" she replied truthfully, a hint of panic evident in her voice as Craig's hand reached for his gun. When he obviously didn't believe her, she tried once more, "Craig, I'm telling the truth! I haven't spoken with my father in months!"

"Ye know," one by one, Craig began to take out the bullets from his pocket, placing them into his pistol. He gritted his teeth in pure abhorrence, "I would've thought that ye'd cooperate. After losing yer _beloved_ Colin, I was _certain_ that ye'd do yer best to save yer other agents…"

"Leave Colin out of this!" Lourdes spat in retaliation, feeling a rush of painful memories course through her mind.

"Do ye want to know how Colin McDougall _really_ died, hmm?"

Lourdes' heart leapt at this, closing her eyes momentarily. She wanted to know, dear God, she wanted her pain to end.

"Do ye want to know _exactly_ how his cover was blown?" At this point, Craig let out a triumphant laugh, igniting blinding rage within Lourdes. She could only grit her teeth in pure hatred as he continued his speech. "After all these years of working with ye, I think I might've forgotten to mention one particular thing." He paused, striding his way over to Lourdes. Bending down in front of her so that they were face to face, he looked her straight in the eyes and confessed, "I _personally_ ended that pathetic man's career."

Jerking from her chair, though being fiercely restrained by Sean, Lourdes felt as though she couldn't breathe. She was suffocating, drowning, choked by his words. "Lies!" she shrieked bitterly. In the background, muffled curses came from both Isolde and Braden upon this new revelation, the two attempting to escape from their bonds.

"Why the _bloody fuck_ would I lie to ye, Lourdes?" He gave her a smug smile, content that his mere words were affecting her so easily. "Do ye know how I did it? How exactly I ratted out yer pathetic little operation?"

It took every bone in her body to restrain herself from lunging out at the bastard, eyes blurry with tears. Though, she knew that if she did, things would not end well for any of them. Looking up at Isolde and Braden, who were listening to every word of their conversation, she managed to control herself, chest heavy, weighted down by rage and grief. _Dear God, please help me._

"Mr. Colin McDougall comes along, fresh from the academy," Craig straightened his back, lightly reciting the take in a mocking manner. "The little fuck works a few cases here and there. He does a good job. Alright, I admit that." As he reminisced about the past, Craig seemed to be conversing more with himself than with Lourdes, angered eyes becoming distant. "I come on this team, with nearly seven years of experience, and what do I get? I get placed under the cocksucker." He gave out a sardonic laugh, shaking his head. "Malley works the small cases, getting' shot at almost daily, putting his life on the line while McDougall gets the big, easy cases, livin' like a fuckin' king. And then…I finally realized _why_ he got it so good." Craig's bitter gaze landed on Lourdes, lips pressing into a thin line. "Because he was fuckin' the boss."

"You know that was never the case!" Lourdes shouted, face scrunched in pure hatred. "He was a good agent, a good man, and he worked hard for what he had!"

Craig raised an eyebrow at this. "Worked ye pretty good, then?"

"Fuck you!" Lourdes shrieked, tears now cascading down her face in rivulets. "Was it all because of this? You killed Colin, ratted us out, and now, are doing all of this, because of your _jealousy_? You're fucked in the head, Craig, do you know that? I treated you as my equal, always made sure you were safe. You're _never_ going to gain anything from helping O'Sullivan! He'll kill you before he pays you!"

"Oh, and you're so sure about that?" Craig raised his eyebrows with mock interest, sitting on the table once more.

Before Lourdes could answer, several faint gun shots sounded from the dock, catching everyone's attention.

"I'll go see what that was." Sean cocked his gun once more, holding it to his side as he spoke with Craig. He motioned his head towards Lourdes, Isolde and Braden. "You take care of them."

With a nod of agreement, Craig stalked towards the window, trying to see what the commotion was. "Brought some of yer friends with ye?" He twisted his dark gaze back to Lourdes, who quickly shook her head. He snorted. "Am I supposed to actually believe that? What did I tell you about bringing backup?"

In wide strides, Craig stalked back towards the desk, retrieving all the guns and bullets from his pockets. As his back was slightly turned away from Lourdes, she tilted her head slowly to the side. Ever so carefully, she slid a pistol from the sleeves of her coat, careful not to make a sound. Her eyes landing on Craig once more, she stated, "You will pay for what you've done in this life and the next."

As he turned around, Craig saw her gun pointing steadily at his head.

Though, Lourdes' eyes widened as she perceived Craig holding a loaded gun as well, pointing straight at her.

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**A/N: Uh oh. What'd you guys think? xx IFHD**


	19. Shattered Pieces

**A/N: Thank you to IrishSaints, wolfchick11 and Jade Opan for reviewing and thank you for reading! I'd have to say that I still love writing this story even though "Even in Heaven" is more popular. I'll try to work on this as much as I can, but seeing that the reviews are much better for the Murphy/OC, I'm going to concentrate on that. I hope you still like this story, though! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 19: Shattered Pieces**

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_**"What I've Done"**_

_**By: Linkin Park**_

_In this farewell  
There's no blood  
There's no alibi  
'Cause I've drawn regret  
From the truth  
Of a thousand lies_

_So let mercy come  
And wash away  
What I've done_

_I'll face myself  
To cross out what I've become  
Erase myself  
And let go of what I've done_

_Put to rest  
What you thought of me  
While I clean this slate  
With the hands of uncertainty  
_

_For what I've done  
I start again  
And whatever pain may come  
Today this ends  
I'm forgiving what I've done!_

_What I've done  
Forgiving what I've done_

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"Ye guys alright in there?" Connor hissed as quietly as he could as he spotted Sean coming from a side exit of the warehouse. Lowering his gun to his side, he signaled to Murphy, who began to slyly jog to their side.

In hasty strides, Sean joined his cousins in the dim moonlight, slightly alarmed. "Aye." He answered quickly, lowering his gun as well. "We're makin' it convincin', but Malley heard the last few shots."

"Fuckin' pricks." Murphy finally appeared at their side, holding his smoking Desert Eagle .50 in hand. Removing his sweaty and bloodied black mask, he hissed through gritted teeth, "There were probably fuckin' ten of O'Sullivan's men walkin' 'round the harbour, all havin' weapons on 'em. Lourdes would've been surrounded and theirs for the killin'."

"Good thing we didn't trust the bastard." Sean attentively eyed their surroundings once more, making sure the coast was entirely clear. "He has her, Isolde and Braden in a room just in there. I slid her a gun just in case right before I left."

Just as Sean had finished his sentence, they heard a gun discharge from inside the warehouse.

_**Flashback**_

_Sean continued to walk casually through Sin Bin, keeping his hands in his pockets as he confidently made his way towards Keiran O'Sullivan and Craig Malley in an adjacent booth. The two didn't immediately look up upon his arrival, so he cleared his throat once, twice, then thrice, finally gaining their attention through the blaring music. Upon seeing him, Craig instantly tensed, placing a hand on the gun that hung from his belt. Sean caught this gesture and quickly held his hand up. "I know everything, Craig. I could rightly take yer ass to jail, but that's not why I'm here." His face hardened. "I want in."_

_At this bold, unmitigated statement, Keiran and Craig gave each other a look, seemingly unconvinced at Sean's proposal. "What exactly do ye want in on, Flannagan?" Craig raised a skeptical eyebrow, closely scrutinizing him. "We're just two men having a couple of drinks at a strip club."_

_"I want in on everything." Sean placed his hands upon the booth table, turning his gaze on both men alternately. "Drinks, money, drugs, hits…anythin' the Unionists can give me. I just want in, and I want in now."_

_"Who is this fucker that speaks in my humble presence?" Keiran piped up in a mockingly cordial tone. "Craig, tell him to fuck off. I would like to enjoy my night, if that is at all possible."_

_"Boss, I…" Craig began hesitantly, leaning his head closer to Keiran's ear. "He's an agent on my team, boss. I can't just fuckin' send him out if he knows somethin'. If I kill him right here, right now, there'll be tons of witnesses."_

_Understanding their predicament, Keiran threw him a nod. "How the fuck can we trust ye?" It was Keiran's turn to speak, pointing a large, ringed finger at him. "For all we know ye could stab our backs in a second."_

_"I haven't reported ye to my boss, or her boss, have I?" With the same confidence evident with his arrival, Sean crossed his arms. "Ye fuckin' know that we can get backup here in minutes, so don't ye fuckin' think that I couldn't do it. I just didn't. Malley here knows this." Even with a cocky smirk, Sean still felt as though he didn't convince them enough. He tried once more. "Look, if ye want to put me on some trial test, then let me work with Agent Craig Malley over here on whatever he's doin'." He patted the agent on the back, promptly receiving a dirty look from him. Sean instantly retrieved his hand. "If ye want more IRA member names, we have 'em. And what's better than one fine agent than two? Besides, Craig knows me. He knows the connections that I have."_

_After being under Craig's critical microscope, the dirty agent finally gave a conceding nod, turning his attention back to Keiran. "He's right, boss. If he had wanted to, he would've ratted us out already, and the An Garda Síochána would've been on our asses right now."_

_Another few moments of deliberation. Sean was getting anxious, leg ticking as he waited. After what lingered for what seemed like ages, Keiran finally said, "Alright, Agent Flannagan. How about we do a simple trial run? If ye fail, yer dead."_

_"Sold!" Sean held out a congenial hand for him to shake, though receiving nothing. He held up an index finger instead. "But first, we have to make this 'attempted arrest' convincing, just to get the other agents off our backs."_

_Craig raised a skeptical eyebrow, crossing his arms. "What are ye suggesting, then?"_

_Sean beamed, as though he were so pleased to inform the two men. "A firefight."_

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_"…and that's how I first met Keiran and Craig together at Sin Bin." Sean sat in the MacManus kitchen in between Il Duce and Murphy, fully explaining to them what had transpired a few days earlier. "I finally managed to convince 'em that I was wholeheartedly dirty, and then we started the whole shooting thing at Sin Bin. I shot my gun in the air first, warning everyone to get the fuck out. Of course, I didn't want anyone to get hurt during this lil' scheme of mine - which, by the way, was not approved by Lourdes, so she'll be on my ass for this one.." He winced, necking a shot. Exhaling, he continued, "I even lied to her about what really happened at Sin Bin since I didn't really know how she would handle the situation or how I was gonna go on with my plan. But I didn't know the fucker was goin' to take it as far as to take me as a fuckin' hostage, so, I made it a lil' more than convincin' when I kicked the shit out o' him. Really, I wanted ye all to shoot 'im down, but that would've left me with no clue where to find Isolde and Braden. Kinda good that he got away in that respect."_

_"So ye have contact with him at all times, even when he's with O'Sullivan?" Murphy questioned, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his knees, "Ye got a plan to get yer agents back?"_

_"Aye. And of course I have a plan. I've had it even before I met the motherfuckers. I'm just glad things are workin' out the way I planned 'em to." Sean leant back on his seat, pursing his lips. "Never thought they were gonna go take Isolde and Braden as hostage, though. Craig just told me about it yesterday and I convinced him to use 'em as bait for Lourdes. That'll keep 'em alive for now. But as to get 'em back, I'm still workin' on how to precisely execute it, but I have a plan."_

_"So that's why he only asked for Lourdes, aye?" Il Duce remarked, unweaving his nephew's tale. "Yer gonna be right beside the bastard when he meets with her."_

_With a wide grin molded on his face, Sean snapped his fingers contentedly, then pointed at both men. "Precisely what I had in mind. I've got the in with Craig, so no worries about that. Now, I'm gonna get Lourdes and ye MacManuses in."_

_"Great." Murphy anxiously leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "What's yer big plan?"_

_"We act."_

_Murphy wrinkled his nose. "Act?"_

_"We'll let Connor and Lourdes in on everything that's happened." Sean began to explain, standing up as though overtaken by utter excitement. He began to pace, the gears in his brain on overdrive. "Lourdes goes to meet with Craig on her own. She doesn't know that I've 'betrayed' her. I come out of nowhere and then she pretends to get pissed. She screams, yells, cries, whatever she wants to do to make it convincing. Then, to make it even _more_ convincing, I'll shoot her…"_

_"Fuck off, Flannagan, ye ain't shootin' her!" Murphy cried out in protest, throwing an empty beer can at his cousin. "Ye out of her fuckin' mind?!"_

_"Nooo, ye fuck, that's why I specifically said_ acting_!" He barked in response, throwing the can back at Murphy. "Fake guns, fake blood, ye know, all that Hollywood special effects shit." At this, Murphy's lips slowly shaped into an 'o' as he completely understood. Sean let out an exasperated sigh. "_Now_ do ye get me, Murph? I ain't gonna really shoot her, ye dumb fuck!"_

_"Sounds much better." Murphy replied calmly._

_"Why thank ye." Sean took a much needed breath. "Alright, once we're in ye three do yer thing and kill whoever is guardin' the place. Do it as discreetly as possible, cuz even I don't know where Craig has Isolde and Braden right now. We might all get fucked if Craig finds out we brought backup. So, once that's done, ye wait for Lourdes and me to get out. When that's all worked out, we'll get rid of Craig somehow, then take Isolde and Braden back to the Embassy to explain all the shit that went down."_

_**End Flashback**_

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**A/N: Sean's a good guy after all! lol Tricked ya? xx IFHD**


	20. Beatification

**A/N: Thank you to IrishSaints, Jade Opal, wolfchick11 and Effigy for the reviews! I really appreciate that you're keeping this story alive. Unfortunately, though, "Even In Heaven" is taking more of my time because more people seem to be enjoying that particular story. I have a few more ideas for this story, but we'll see where it takes me. I have planned out the next three chapters, and it seems like it is a good idea to end this story in Chapter 23. This can be the end of "Season 1" of a TV show, in other words. I will leave it to that until I start having ideas for this particular story and the continuation - a "Season 2". Until then, hope you like the rest of what I have so far! xx IFHD**

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**Chapter 20: Beatification**

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_**"Cry"**_

_**By: James Blunt**_

_I have seen peace. I have seen pain,  
Resting on the shoulders of your name.  
Do you see the truth through all their lies?  
Do you see the world through troubled eyes?  
And if you want to talk about it anymore,  
Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder,  
I'm a friend._

_I have seen birth. I have seen death.  
Lived to see a lover's final breath.  
Do you see my guilt? Should I feel a fright?  
Is the fire of hesitation burning bright?  
And if you want to talk about it once again,  
On you I depend. I'll cry on your shoulder.  
You're a friend._

_You and I have lived through many things.  
I'll hold on to your heart.  
I wouldn't cry for anything,  
But don't go tearing your life apart._

_I have seen fear. I have seen faith.  
Seen the look of anger on your face.  
And if you want to talk about what will be,  
Come and sit with me, and cry on my shoulder,  
I'm a friend.  
And if you want to talk about it anymore,  
Lie here on the floor and cry on my shoulder,  
Once again.  
Cry on my shoulder,  
I'm a friend._

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Lourdes had pulled the trigger first.

The bullet casing repeatedly bounced beside her feet. Following its fall, she dropped from the chair to her knees, holding the smoking gun upon her lap. Craig's body limped slowly, gun dropping from his hand as he fell over on his stomach, sporting a gaping hole in his skull. With a loud thud, his body hit the concrete floor, a pool of blood instantly appearing from underneath him in wild rivulets. Lourdes let out a shaky breath, hands on the cold floor, trembling arms barely supporting her. She could hear Isolde and Braden wildly murmuring through their gags through the ringing in her ears. Though, she had no energy to move and help them at that moment as she was still frozen, shaking, and cold on the ground.

Connor, Murphy and Sean appeared at the doorway a few moments later, guns all drawn in front of them. Quickly surveying the room, they spotted the bloody mess that was now Craig's corpse a few meters in front of them. Slowly lowering their weapons, they saw that the three agents were alive and breathing, much to their relief. Jogging to her side, Connor was by Lourdes immediately, holding her steady as she continued to sit upon the ground. Without a word passing between them, Murphy and Sean marched toward Isolde and Braden, untying them simultaneously. Craig's lifeless body remained untouched, avoided as though it were a plague, as it lay between them.

Isolde squirmed as Murphy touched her, untying her blindfold and gag first. "Shh, hey, I ain't gonna hurt ye." He whispered soothingly, placing his gun on the ground. As the blindfold loosened, Isolde's bright-green eyes met Murphy's instantly. As the ropes behind her fell, she instinctively wrapped her arms around him in utter gratitude, embracing him quickly. Murphy was taken aback by the sudden action for a few moments, but finally managed a smile, awkwardly embracing her in return. "Shh, 'tis alright. Yer safe now."

"Fuckin' hell, Flannagan." Braden groaned, twisting his neck and arms in utter pain. He eyed his fellow agent in both wonder and gratitude. "That was some shit ye pulled. First ye had me thinkin' ye were dirty, and then I thought ye were gonna kill the boss. Wanted to shoot ye down meself, I did!"

Sean grinned at him lopsidedly as he continued to untie him. He answered jokingly, "I deserve an Oscar for that shit, and a Nobel Prize for this entire set-up."

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Upon receiving clearance from all four of the agents, the Saints marched behind them as they all made their way through the Irish Embassy. Connor and Murphy were both a little agitated at being watched so closely by guards and having security cameras all over them, but both Lourdes and Sean assured them that everything would be fine. Throughout their journey, Isolde and Braden were filled in on what happened and what was currently happening, though Lourdes and Sean steered clear of anything having to do with the Saints. As they were all properly introduced upon arriving at the Embassy, Connor and Murphy remained quiet, admitting that they were just men who had helped a cousin in need. Thankfully, Isolde and Braden accepted this explanation for now, not pressing the matter any further by questioning the MacManus brothers. They were even informed about Connor's _real_ name and the undercover operation that he had pulled, but they accepted it at face value and didn't question it either. At the moment, the two rescued agents were just relieved that they were alive and had more allies than enemies, no matter what their real names were.

They filed into Sean's room, each fatigued from the day's events. Plopping down tiredly on the beds and on the chairs, the six made themselves comfortable, a complacent silence enveloping the room. Lourdes, though, was not at ease, and had not been so ever since she had learnt of what had_really_ happened to Colin. So, before any of the group began to speak, she quietly excused herself, swiftly heading for the door. With concerned expressions, the five observed her as she exited Sean's room and entered hers across the hallway.

Sean cleared his throat to break the silence. "So, now that ye've heard our story," he twisted his head towards Isolde and Braden, lying down on his bed as he gulped down a can of beer, "How'd he lure ye guys out?"

Isolde frowned at the memory. "Craig came in pretending to be all distraught. He said that Lourdes was in danger, so we followed him as quickly as we could, not notifying any of the guards where we were goin' because, well, we didn't know _where_ we were goin'. Neither of us even thought that Craig was dirty, so we just followed him without a thought." She explained, though smiling thankfully at Murphy as he gave her a can of Heineken. "Of course we didn't doubt him and left without letting the Embassy guards know what we were doin'. We were more worried about Lourdes."

"He had a car waitin' out in front." Braden continued the tale, chugging the beer in front of him. "Just as we sat in the back, he pointed a gun at us. We didn't know what the fuck was goin' on, and it even crossed my mind that he was playin' some sorta prank on us, but he just told us to shut the fuck up or he'd hammer bullets in our heads. We cooperated as best as we could, and they just took us to the warehouse at the harbour and left us there, tied to chairs, for a few days."

"He was a mole in yer team, if ye haven't already guessed, workin' for Keiran O'Sullivan." Murphy was quick to interject, taking a seat beside Isolde. "We've been tryin' to find out who the mole was out of all of ye. Guess that's over with now."

"What about the bodies?" Sean questioned out loud, though his gaze growing distant.

"Our Da, Sean's uncle, was with Smecker the entire time, and he spoke with Smecker already about Sean's plan." Connor informed everyone in the room. "They're at the morgue. Smecker's coverin' for us, but he'll make everythin' about O'Sullivan public. The fucker won't be able to walk around Boston without being recognized." He took a long drag of his cigarette, blankly staring at the floor. "They're takin' care of O'Sullivan."

At the thought, Isolde's face scrunched in complete distaste. "I must say, though, that I would never have thought one of _us_ would help these Unionist bastards."

"He must've already been dirty way before he joined the team." Braden mused, almost as if to himself.

Isolde only looked out of the doorway, seeing that the door was left half open. Through it, she saw that Lourdes' door was partly closed. Frowning once more, she sighed. "I just hope the boss is okay."

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Lourdes stared endlessly at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as if trying to recognize who was looking back at her. She allowed the sink to run, its soothing whooshing noise the only sound that she could hear. It seemed so faint to her. Over and over, she would wash her hands, her face, her arms, scrubbing and scrubbing, but she still didn't feel clean. What was happening to her? What was she feeling? The words of a now dead man, whose death _she_ was responsible for, haunted her. She knew that his words would haunt her more than his ghost ever could.

Craig Malley had killed Colin McDougall.

After the days, months, and weeks she had spent wondering and trying to uncover what had gone wrong, she had finally received her answer. She remembered all of those nights that she had cried herself to sleep, suffered through terrifying nightmares, all over the loss of the one who she had loved – still loved? She didn't know anymore. Maybe it was partly guilt that was responsible. Maybe she didn't grieve properly, didn't grieve enough. Maybe she just _felt_ responsible for it. He had been her agent, not only her lover, and she had let him down by not being able to solve his death, but now, letting a snake of an agent join their team.

A sudden knock on her door startled Lourdes from her thoughts, causing her to slightly jump. Taking the towel and quickly drying herself, she finally turned off the faucet, making herself as presentable as she could before she answered the door. She opened the door slowly, tying the strings on the bathrobe that she had slipped on. Connor appeared, his form overshadowing hers as he leaned his elbow on the doorframe, curiously looking down at her. He entered slowly, closing the door behind him. Without a word, he swiftly cupped her face in his hands, enveloping her lips in a hungry, passionate kiss. With a sigh and a whimper, Lourdes returned the kiss, though much more gently, as she gingerly wrapped her arms around his neck. Slowly, Connor pinned her upon the back of the door, pressing himself upon her, though careful not to crush her. He continued his assault on her senses, feeling her, tasting her, breathing in her scent. He rested his warm, calloused hands upon her cold neck, his thumbs lightly caressing her cheeks. Pulling away a few moments later, Connor rested his forehead upon hers, still holding her closely.

"Ye alright?" he whispered almost inaudibly as he continued to caress her cheek with the back of his long fingers.

With a trembling sigh, Lourdes managed to nod her head as she lied, "Yes."

He rubbed the sides of her arms, gently kissing her forehead, resting his lips there. "Yer shakin'."

Lourdes couldn't keep this façade any longer. With a sob, she embraced Connor tightly, clutching onto him as if for dear life. In between shaky breaths, she sputtered, "I murdered him, Connor. I wanted revenge. I…I _wanted_ to kill him!"

Connor tried to soothe her as best as he could, admitting to himself that he had only comforted others in rare occasions. He rubbed her back softly, pressing his lips upon hers once more as he stated in all honesty, "The fucker deserved it, Lourdes. He deserved it."

Silent tears ruthlessly cascaded down Lourdes' cheeks as she rested her head upon his strong chest. Feeling his arms tighten around her, she said, "He wanted to know where my father was. He sought me out so that I could tell him where he was!"

"What?" _Why would they want Riley Villamor?_ Connor himself was confused by this, having no answer to give her. Sifting through the unanswered questions in his head, he continued to hush her. "Look, ye've had a rough night. Sleep on it, alright? We'll talk about it in the mornin'."

That was all it took. Lourdes felt so comforted, felt so reassured, by his mere words. With her misty eyes looking up at his alternately, she whispered, "Stay with me tonight?"

Connor's curious gaze landed on her flushed face, his eyes as searching as hers. After a while, he finally gave her a simple nod, releasing her slowly, reluctantly. As he made his way to the bathroom to prepare for sleep, Lourdes languidly walked towards her bed, feeling so emotionally and physically drained. She needed – wanted – Connor to be with her tonight. She just wanted to be held again - as Colin has held her, no matter what she was going through. Right now, she felt so cold, so distant from the world – so alone.

Maybe Connor could be the one to help her.

Emerging from the washroom after a few minutes, Connor's bright eyes immediately landed on the bed. Lourdes laid underneath the covers in her satin nightgown, staring up at the ceiling. Hearing him approach, her eyes fluttered to his form, which stood, hesitantly, a few meters away. In response, she innocently pulled the covers off the bed, motioning for him to join her.

Connor gulped. _Why the fuck are ye nervous?_ He chastised himself. _Yer acting like it's yer first time sleepin' with a woman!_ Continuing to angrily chide himself as he began to move, he slowly and awkwardly made his way towards the bed. As he sat upon the edge, Lourdes slightly turned away from him, making herself more comfortable. In a swift motion, Connor removed his rosary, then his shirt, placing them both on the nightstand beside him. After this, he finally joined Lourdes underneath the covers. Peering down at her in the dim light, he could see that her eyes were again turned towards the ceiling, as if concentrating on a particular spot.

"Should I feel guilty about killing him?" Lourdes questioned almost inaudibly, gaze finally flickering towards Connor's form.

He turned on his side, propping his head upon his hand. Ever so gently, he brushed tendrils of her hair from her face, giving his head a slow but firm shake. "No, Lourdes, ye shouldn't. He was an evil man who was responsible for the death of yer agent. There's nothing you should regret."

She gave him a nod of understanding, mindlessly caressing his cheeks and lips with her dainty fingertips. "I'm glad that you're here with me."

It a move that slightly surprised Connor, Lourdes began to nibble on his lips. Her kissing became more erratic when he returned the favour, sliding his body closer to hers, the lengths of their bodies now touching. With slight hesitance, Connor enclosed Lourdes in his arms, fingers hovering over the small of her back, then down to her bottom. Meeting her stormy eyes, as if asking for permission, Connor began to trace the line of her spine, feeling her shiver beneath his fingertips. When he heard no word of protest, he then brought his fingers to the hem of her nightgown, hiking it up higher and higher. Lourdes felt so undone by his wandering touch, her breath audibly shaking as she exhaled.

Connor was lost. Something had taken over him, his actions uncontrollable, automatic. He pushed away the memories of what had transpired the last time he was in bed with her, believing that circumstances were now different. He must admit though, that he didn't mind being under her control once more. Feeling her strong thighs, Connor pulled her leg around him, abruptly rolling her over upon her back and hovering above her. Though she gasped in surprise, no words escaped Lourdes' lips. Her fiery orbs told Connor all that he needed to know.

A small, mischievous grin appeared on Lourdes' face as she bucked her hips upwards to meet Connor's. He let out a low hiss at this, aroused by the sensation of her body beneath his. His hands greedily cupping her breasts through the thin fabric, Connor covered her lips with his once more, letting out a low, throaty groan as she pleasingly shifted below him. Raking her fingernails down his exposed back, Lourdes let out a moan, reveling in the feeling of his warm, perspiring skin upon hers. Lourdes herself was thinking about the last time she was in this position with Connor. Disregarding the outcome of her little plot to expose the Saint, she had to admit that the experience was _more__than_ pleasurable. Even though she had meticulously planned her moves, she didn't expect the heightened emotions that Connor had evoked, the raw pleasure that he had ignited within her. His body, scent, his _abilities_ intoxicated her, the curiosity as to what this man was capable of embedded in her mind. Without so much as a thought, Lourdes pushed upon Connor's broad chest, wanting him to roll over so that she would be able to straddle him. Though, what she didn't account for was the size of the tiny hotel mattress.

In an instant, Connor rolled off the bed and fell with a thud upon the ground.

With a gasp, Lourdes' eyes shot open. Resting her hands upon the edge of the mattress, she peered down towards Connor, who groaned and writhed upon the carpeted ground with his eyes closed. The shocked expression plastered upon Lourdes' face immediately disappeared. Feeling the ticklish sensation within her stomach, she placed a hand upon her mouth, though unable to fight her giggles. When Connor recovered and propped himself upon his elbows, Lourdes couldn't control herself any longer and began to laugh boisterously.

Eyeing her with a mocking brow and pursed lips, Connor mumbled, "I'm glad yer 'avin the time of yer life up there while I'm down 'ere rubbin' a bruised arse."

"More like a bruised ego." retaliated Lourdes, earning a shocked expression from the Saint.

"Oi!" he cried out with a laugh, standing up so quickly that it evoked a slight shriek from Lourdes. Now bent upon 'revenge', Connor mounted Lourdes once more, this time releasing a barrage of tickles upon her body. Kicking and screaming in delight, Lourdes unsuccessfully tried to halt the Saint, the ticklish sensation weakening her. All she could muster were a few slaps on his shoulders and chest. Connor chuckled to himself, nipping and biting at the side of her neck as he continued his attack on her.

After a good minute, Connor finally halted, with Lourdes breathing heavily and erratically. Looking down upon her flustered face, he commented, "I didn't think I'd make ye hot and sweaty by…tickling ye."

Lourdes pursed her lips seductively as she caught her breath. "There's a first time for everything."

"That's true." Connor mused, then said to himself, _But it shouldn't be tonight. Not tonight._ So, with another kiss on her forehead, Connor rolled (carefully) to her side, wrapping his arms protectively around her. She automatically moved closer to him, drawn to his warmth, strength and kindness. Finding a comfortable spot to place her head, she finally closed her eyes, resting her hand upon his chest. With a last look at the woman that he held in his arms, Connor outstretched his hand, turning off the lamp beside him.

vvv

**A/N: Oh Connor, what a cutie! Hope you guys like it. Like I said, the end of "Season 1" of this story is almost at an end, but hey, "Even In Heaven" will get even better. I promise! xx IFHD**


	21. Recovery

A/N: Let's savour these last few chapters of Season 1, shall we? haha xx IFHD

vvv**  
**

**Chapter 21: Recovery**

vvv

"_**I Think God Can Explain"**_

_**By: Splender**_

_There's a lot of things I understand  
And there's a lot of things that  
I don't want to know  
But you're the only face I recognize  
It's so damn sweet of you  
to look me in the eyes _

_It's alright, I'm O.K.  
I think God can explain  
I believe I'm the same  
I get carried away _

_It's alright, I'm O.K.  
I think God can explain  
I'm relieved I'm relaxed  
I'll get over it yet _

_The sent of vasoline  
in the summertime  
The feel of an icecube  
Melting overtime  
The world seems bigger  
Than both of us  
Yet it seems so small  
when I begin to cry_

_I'm so much better than you guessed_

_  
I think God can explain_

vvv

"So…ye didn't come home last night." Murphy's sing-song voice greeted Connor as he strode into the living room, bags of groceries hanging from his hands.

"Aye." Connor answered simply, placing the bags on the kitchen table. Shrugging his coat off, he threw it on the back of a chair, ensuing to unload all of his purchases into the fridge and cupboards. Disregarding his brother's teasing grin, he continued about with his duties, grinning himself as he proudly retrieved two packs of 24's from the plastic bags.

Murphy persisted with the subject, his grin only growing wider at Connor's obvious avoidance of it. "And where were ye the entire night, young man?"

Connor gave him a flippant gesture, opening one of the packs of 24's. "Around."

"Around, say, the Embassy, then?" The knowing grin plastered on Murphy's countenance was so wide that it momentarily irritated Connor. Murphy only continued to pry even more, seeing his twin's discomfort. He raised his eyebrows repeatedly, placing a hand on his chin and eyeing his brother expectantly.

Connor finally gave in. "For fuck's sake, Murph, she just needed someone to comfort her, alright?" He explained exasperatedly, though not even coming _close_ to convincing his brother. Connor let out an irritated grunt, finding that Murphy continued to stare at him, eyes smiling. He snapped irritably, "What?!"

"So was it good?"

"Ye little fucker!" Connor barked, rolling the newspaper that he held in his hand. "Nothin' happened, ye bastard!" As he chased his brother haphazardly down the corridor, he repeatedly hit him with the impromptu weapon over the head.

"Like I fuckin' believe that!" Murphy burst into laughter, trying to defend himself with an arm. "Oi, Charlie Bronson, it's St. Patty's Day!" he cried in a fragmentary manner as he continued to laugh maniacally. "It's all in good fun!"

vvv

Lourdes eyed herself in the mirror, finally content with how she appeared. She wanted to forget what had happened the night before, to know what it felt like to be happy, joyous and carefree again, so she was definitely making an appearance at McGuinty's tonight. After having finished preparing herself for the festive night, she crossed the hall and lightly knocked on Sean's door.

"Yep, come in."

As Lourdes peeked her head in, she saw Sean, standing at the windowsill, silently observing the rain outside. The soft pitter-patter of water droplets upon the window was the only thing that sounded in the room, making it surprisingly calm and serene. Deep in thought, Sean didn't turn his head when Lourdes had entered, his attention still drawn towards the misty rain.

"Kind of like Dublin, isn't it?" Lourdes languidly walked to his side, peering out through the window as he did.

"I was just thinkin' that." He finally managed to pry his eyes away from the window, looking back at Lourdes.

"You miss home, Flannagan?"

"Yeah. A lot."

She smiled at this. Crossing her arms, she leaned on the wall beside him, twisting her head to face him. "Sean, I never did thank you for what you did. Your quick thinking, your plan, your execution…whether or not I approved it, it eventually saved us all. So…thank you for that."

"I learned from the best, boss." He jokingly pursed his lips in mock conceit, tilting his head in Lourdes' direction. "Does this mean that I'm gettin' a raise then? Oh, I'm gettin' a _big_ raise, aren't I?"

With a gentle laugh, Lourdes wrapped her arms pleasantly around him, embracing him fully. "I think a raise will definitely be in order." Stepping back from him a few moments later, she placed her hands on the sides of his arms. "Good work, Flannagan. I've always had faith in you."

Giving her a half-hearted smile in reply, Sean soothingly rubbed the side of her arm. "Ye alright, then?"

Without an explanation, Lourdes knew exactly what he was inquiring about.

"Dealing with it." She replied truthfully, closing her eyes momentarily. "At least now we all know the truth, which came straight from Craig's mouth."

"It's a great weight off our minds." Sean admitted, giving out a deep sigh as he placed his hands in his pockets. "Now we can really let Colin rest in peace."

All Lourdes could do was nod at this statement. She turned, careful not to show any emotion in front of Sean. Though, before she could walk away, he shot out an arm, hands clasping onto hers. "Lourdes, about that kiss…"

To her own surprise, Lourdes' heart jumped at this. Sean had always been flirtatious with her, as he was with many women, but never _once_ before now did he ever actually _kiss_ her. She had to admit that she was quite taken aback with Sean kissing her, for they had never discussed it to be a part of the 'act'. It definitely wasn't him trying to be convincing, either. He had no reason, at that particular point in time, to kiss her. Upon giving this matter some thought, Lourdes cleared her throat. "It wasn't necessary, was it, Flannagan?"

"Um…" he blurted out uncomfortably, running his fingers through his long, dark hair. "Look, I don't know what was goin' through me head at that time, but I know it was the adrenaline, the entire fuckin' stakeout fake act…thing!" Lourdes' eyes momentarily grew wide, surprised to see her made so frustrated at trying to explain a kiss. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his former composure. "Look, I just want to apologize if I had crossed any boundaries, made things awkward, and…shit like that."

Sean inwardly groaned at his sorry excuse for an explanation.

He just couldn't do it. He couldn't say it.

"Don't worry about it." Lourdes replied comfortingly, placing a hand on the side of his face. He held her hand to his cheek for a moment, then immediately released her. Lourdes could only eye him questioningly, never seeing him so simultaneously flustered and dispirited. In a lighter tone, she piped up. "Hey, we're all goin' to McGuinty's in a few minutes. You comin' or what?"

"Are ye kiddin'?" Sean let out a mocking scoff, placing his hand on his heart as though he were truly offended. "Me, Sean Fergus Flannagan, missing a drinkfest in a pub on St. Patty's Day? Definitely not!"

Lourdes actually let out a laugh at his animated character. "Alright, Mr. Fergus Flannagan, get your things ready. We'll leave in about 20 minutes."

As Lourdes turned to leave the room, all signs of contentment disappeared from Sean's face. With a frown molded on his countenance, his eyes flickered back to Lourdes' form, watching her solemnly as she exited his room.

vvv

McGuinty's was packed with patrons from wall to wall, the establishment almost bursting with people. It seemed as though the entire Irish neighbourhood and their friends and families had gathered in this one pub. They were not only scattered indoors, but also outside in the newly furnished patio, disregarding the fact that it wasn't even summertime. Irish tunes sounded in the background of chatter, laughter, and toasts, the aura reflecting Ireland true and true. No fights as of yet, to which Doc and his employees were thankful for, so everyone was in good spirits, enjoying the festivities without a care.

Lourdes sat thoughtfully in the booth with her agents, twisting her half-empty pint glass in front of her. The continuous bubbles that rose to the top weren't at all interesting to her, but she continued to distantly stare at it nonetheless. Scattered around the pub were the MacManus brothers, Il Duce and even Smecker, conversing with various people and genuinely enjoying themselves this night. To Lourdes, it seemed as though this was the only night that these men were allowed to enjoy, which she thought was quite a pity. She had to admit, though, that it had been ages since she'd genuinely had a good time.

A few minutes later, Murphy returned to their booth, carrying an entire tray of pints. With a chorus of cheers from the agents, he slid a glass in front of each of them, handing the tray thankfully back to a waitress. With a quirky grin plastered on his face, he took a seat in between Lourdes and Isolde, holding his glass high in the middle of the table. "Sláinte!" he proclaimed, toasting each of the agents.

"Sláinte!" They said in return, tapping each of their glasses together and necking the pint.

As Murphy drank, his eyes noticed something from the bottom of his glass. The vision was blurry, but he was positive that he was seeing correctly. Almost spitting out his drink, he swallowed quickly, then placed his cup back on the table. Slightly wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes grew wide, seeing (somewhat) clearly now. "Well, fuck me." He muttered under his breath.

Although his mumble was quiet, his somewhat distraught expression caught Lourdes' attention. "What is it?" She followed Murphy's blank stare, seeing Connor in the distance. Beside him stood a beautiful, blonde woman, giggling as she flirtatiously placed a hand on his. Connor grinned wildly, eyes crinkling, at the joke that passed between them, casually drinking his pint as he continued to stare at her. In her tip-toes, she leaned in towards Connor, giving him a lingering kiss on the cheek. At this, Lourdes realized that she felt a _tinge_ of jealousy, even though she was never the jealous type. Though, at what Murphy blurted out next, her face blanched.

"That's Aileen."

Lourdes' gaze quickly landed on Sean. He was also staring at Connor and Aileen, though still drinking his pint and nodding at whatever Isolde and Braden were speaking about. The expression on his face was inscrutable, but he definitely wasn't smiling anymore. Instantaneously standing as he finished his pint, he excused himself from the booth, and then quickly disappeared into the crowd. Murphy had missed this, for he was now in a discussion with Isolde and Braden, though Lourdes saw every moment of it. Sean didn't go towards Connor and Aileen, but in the opposite direction. Placing down her glass, she also excused herself, dashing in the direction to where Sean had disappeared.

Her eyes roamed searchingly throughout the bar. She caught a glimpse of him exiting through the back way and onto the patio. Still in pursuit, she kindly pushed her way through the stifling crowd, careful not to knock any of the drinks out of their hands. After a few moments of struggle, fresh air finally hit her cheeks as she made it out onto the patio. Spotting Sean leaning on a side wall with hands in his pockets, she frowned, making her way over to him. "Hey." She said, catching his attention. "What are you doing out here?"

"Needed some air." He somewhat slurred, eyes still out in front of him. "What about ye?"

"I saw you leave and I thought you were actually going home." Lourdes explained truthfully, though careful not to mention anything about Aileen or Connor. She walked closer to him. "Everything alright?"

Sean's glistening blue-green eyes stared down at her intensely. Slowly raising his hand, he traced Lourdes' cheek with the tips of his fingers, memorizing every inch of her face. Lourdes was frozen on the spot. Without a word, he leaned down, capturing her lips in his in a deep kiss.

Connor and Aileen walked towards the patio, arms linked. They continued their conversation, joking and laughing as they usually did. Though as Connor stepped outside, he immediately recognized two figures to his right. Just as he squinted, he saw Sean leaning forward, eagerly pressing his lips upon Lourdes'. Immediately, he felt a slight snarl curling upon his lips. Without warning, he turned and walked away, with Aileen following confusedly behind him.

Sean's breath was warm, tinged with alcohol, as he deepened the kiss. It took a while for Lourdes to react, thanks to goddamn alcohol, but it wasn't long until she opened her eyes, placed her hands upon Sean's chest, and pulled away.

"Shit." Sean groaned, running his fingers through his long hair as he closed his eyes. "Fuck, Lourdes, I'm sorry. I didn't…I wasn't thinking…"

"That's the second time in two days that you've kissed me, Flannagan." Lourdes pointed out sternly, though mocking evident in her tone. "Look, you can't just keep kissing me and apologizing for it. It doesn't feel nice to be at the receiving end of that, you know."

He hiccupped. "Please don't fire me."

"Alright, Flannagan, that's enough." She stated sternly, meeting his gaze. "We're professionals, adults. We can handle mistakes like these, aye?" She eyed the tall Irishman expectantly, hands on her hips. "You've had quite a lot to drink, so get your shit and we'll go back to the Embassy."

"My ex was in there. Aileen." Sean blurted out mindlessly, frowning. "She was with Connor, and…fuck, it still hurts, Lourdes. After all these years, it still hurts."

Lourdes couldn't believe that it was Sean who was acting and speaking in such a way. His failed relationship with Aileen must have cut him deeply, so much so that he himself didn't want to admit it. Before Lourdes could respond, she heard her mobile ring. "I'll be right back." She quickly said to Sean, placing a comforting a hand on his shoulder. "Don't move an inch."

Receiving a swaying nod from the inebriated Irishman, she made her way down the patio and into a quieter spot upon the fields. Flipping her phone open, she answered hastily. "Agent Villamor speaking."

"Just the person I wanted to speak with." The voice on the other end answered lightly through some static.

"Boss?" she covered her other ear, attempting to improve her hearing. "Agent Keele?"

"Thaaat's right, sweetums!" He replied in such a mirthful, booming tone that it almost scared Lourdes. His thick Irish accent made it even _more_ difficult for her to understand him as he continued in the same tone, "Now, would ye mind tellin' me why all these news reporters are talkin' bout some O'Sullivan bloke and are pointin' their fingers at _us_?" Wincing, she could feel his discontent all the way from Dublin. "If I clearly remember – which I do, since _I_ personally briefed all of ye about this – I thought this investigation was supposed to be _classified?_!"

Lourdes slightly jumped at the loudness of his bellow, thinking that she was going to be permanently deaf. "Sir, I can explain all of this, believe me."

"Ooooh, ye better be able to explain it, Villamor!" She winced even more, as if being chided by her own father. "Because right now, I, Special Agent Liam Keele, am _not_ a happy man right now!"

"Well, to begin I…"

"Save it for later." He quickly interjected, catching her mid-sentence. "Ye'll be able to explain it to me in person."

Lourdes furrowed her brows. "Sir?"

"I'm comin' to Boston!"

vvv

A/N: Why does EVERYTHING have to be ruined? Geeze! haha It's almost the end of Season 1, guys! What'd you think? xx IFHD


	22. The Source

**Chapter 22: The Source**

vvv

"_**Time After Time"**_

_**By: Quietdrive**_

_Lying in my bed  
I hear the clock tick  
And think of you  
Caught up in circles  
Confusion is nothing new  
Flashback  
Warm nights  
Almost left behind  
Suitcase of memories  
Time after time_

_Sometimes  
You picture me  
I'm walking  
Too far ahead  
You're calling  
To me  
I can't hear  
What you've said_

_Then you say  
Go slow  
I fall behind  
The second hand  
Unwinds_

_If you're lost  
You can look  
And you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall  
I will catch you  
I'll be waiting  
Time after time  
Time after time  
Time after time_

_After  
My picture fades  
And darkness  
Has turned to grey  
Watching  
Through windows  
You're wondering  
If I'm okay_

_Secrets  
Stolen  
From deep inside  
The drum beats  
Out of time_

_If you're lost  
You can look  
And you will find me  
Time after time  
If you fall  
I will catch you  
I'll be waiting  
If you fall  
I will catch you  
I'll always be waiting  
Time after time  
If you fall  
I will catch you  
I'll be waiting  
Time after time_

vvv

After Agent Keele's last sentence, Lourdes was immediately left with the dial tone. She looked at her phone for a few seconds, in bewilderment at what had just transpired. _Keele's coming all the way to Boston?_ She gulped. If anything, _her_ ass will be on the line, receiving all the reprimand from her superior for everything that has occurred. Whatever he may ask, he can only know the basics of what really happened with Craig. Though, more importantly to her and the entire operation, he can't know _anything_ about the Saints.

Having forgotten her jacket inside McGuinty's, she hugged herself for warmth as she strode back to the patio to where Sean was – or, to be more exact, to where she had left him just a few minutes before. Seeing that he was nowhere in sight, she muttered a curse to herself, instinctively making her way inside and back towards their booth. Seeing it through a sea of heads a few meters ahead, she spotted only Murphy and Isolde, with Murphy comfortably having his arm around Isolde. Attempting not to question _this_ new revelation, she eventually made it to their side, surprised that she was not covered in beer or broken glass. "Hey." Languidly giving their attention to Lourdes, Murphy and Isolde eventually looked up, smiles still molded on their faces.

"Hey, Lourdes." Isolde gave her a sweet smile. She _definitely_ seemed to be enjoying snuggling with Murphy.

With squinted eyes, Lourdes surveyed the booth and the surrounding area. "Where did everyone go?"

To this question, Murphy twisted his head to face her. Obviously hammered, he grinned at her lopsidedly. "Da and Smecker are over there," he began as he slurred, waving his hand towards an indeterminate direction, "Braden took Sean back to the Embassy 'cuz he was plastered," he hiccupped, "And Connor fucked off somewhere."

"Great." Lourdes said in utmost sarcasm as she placed her fingers upon her temple, not knowing exactly _why_ she was frustrated. "Isolde, Agent Keele just called me. He's on his way here, to Boston."

"What?" Isolde suddenly straightened her back, sobering up at this news. In answer to Murphy's confused expression, she explained, "Agent Keele is Lourdes' superior. Her boss. And he's coming," she turned to Lourdes once more, her face even more scrunched, "why is he coming?"

"He knows about O'Sullivan." Lourdes replied succinctly, feeling her headache becoming more severe. "The press is on his ass. And he's gonna drill me about it in person."

"Someone's in trouble!" Murphy piped up in a sing-song like voice, crookedly smiling at Lourdes. Immediately, he received a look of annoyance from her. His smile vanished in an instant. "Wait, didn't mean that."

"Look, I don't know who should take care of who right now," Lourdes admitted exasperatedly, pointing at Murphy and Isolde alternately as though they were her children, "but you both keep safe. I gotta figure out how I'm gonna deal with Agent Keele as he rips me about this entire case."

vvv

Aileen hungrily pressed herself against Connor, roughly pinning him to the wall. Running her hands down the length of his body, she gave out a low moan as she buried her lips in his. They had returned to her home just seconds before, almost unable to make their way inside. Tripping and swaying as they stumbled to walk through the doorway, Connor held Aileen in his arms, wrapping them loosely around her. Barely making it inside her home, Aileen dropped all of her belongings at her sides. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Connor's neck, giving him a mischievous smile.

And now, Connor was here, in her arms.

He returned her kiss with full force, running his hands down her back, then her bottom. His emotions were convoluted, so much so that he couldn't even think clearly anymore. Hell, he could barely _see_ clearly. He saw a face, a woman's form, and that was all. He cursed at his alcohol binge, but fuck it, he thinks, it's St. Patty's Day.

In hasty steps, they made their way clumsily through the hallway, knocking over objects and several pieces of furniture. Without breaking the kiss, Connor lowered Aileen upon a couch, following her a few moments later. He arched his back, impulsively removing his shirt as Aileen worked on his belt, tugging at it impatiently. Connor gave out a low groan, placing his right leg in between hers, moving closer to her. His glazed eyes observed her as he rested his hands on the either side of her head.

"I want you, Connor." Aileen whimpered, squirming underneath him seductively. "Let's make love like we used to."

Connor was aroused. He wasn't ashamed to admit that one bit. It had been so long since he had slept with Aileen, so long that he was sure that their 'relationship' had been permanently over months ago. But she appeared at McGuinty's, out of the blue, and she acted as though nothing had happened between them…

…As if she hadn't cheated on him.

Connor wanted to forgive her, he really did, so he spoke with her: light conversation, nothing too personal. Then she brings up the past – their past – and apologizes, makes excuses, and then pleads to allow her to make all her wrongs right. Connor knew exactly what 'making her wrongs right' meant. He was going to flatly refuse – that is, until he saw Lourdes kissing Sean. Connor knew that he wasn't exactly with Lourdes, but he couldn't help but feel hurt, duped…_betrayed_. With all the alcohol running through his veins, he was easily convinced that she purposely did so. She purposely betrayed him, to get back at him, to…

_No, Lourdes wouldn't do that,_ Connor hissed to himself, mind swirling, head aching. What about all that they had gone through? What they had done? Did it all mean nothing to her?

Didn't it all mean something to _him_?

"Connor, what's wrong?"

Aileen's breathless question suddenly pulled him back to reality, his eyes focusing on her once more. As if Aileen's skin was burning him, he promptly stood from the couch, so quickly that he almost toppled over. As he struggled to find his balance, Aileen sat up, giving him a hurt, questioning look.

"I'm sorry." Connor muttered, recklessly placing his shirt and coat back on. "I can't do this, Aileen. I can't do this anymore."

Without another word, Connor swiftly exited her home, closing the door softly behind him.

vvv

"Braden, why the fuck are there fairies dancing around yer head?"

"There are no fuckin' fairies dancin' 'round me head, Flannagan."

"Oh yeah?" Sean countered, face filled with determination. "Then what's _that_?" In a swift motion, Sean lunged for a so-called fairy in front of him, arms closing as though he were to scoop it up. Catching nothing but air, the tall Irishman flung his arms wildly to his sides and flailed them frantically, attempting to regain some ounce of his balance.

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Braden muttered to himself, unamused. Although somewhat tempted to allow his comrade to fall, he held out his hand in front of him at the last moment. As he did so, Sean quickly grabbed hold of his arm, almost haphazardly pulling Braden down with him. Braden gave out a grunt, hauling the inebriated Irishman on his two feet. "Flannagan, just a few more steps to yer room. Ye made it all the way up the steps and elevator, so I know ye can manage just a few more steps." As Sean opened his mouth to speak, Braden quickly hushed him. "And _don't_ ask again, because I ain't gonna carry ye to yer bed, ye hear me?"

"Some friend ye are." Sean mumbled to himself, swaying from side to side resembling a pendulum as he somehow managed not to trip on his own feet. Without warning, he began to sing _very_ loudly, "I've got a lo-ve-ly bunch o' coconuts, diddily-dee-dee, there they are a-standin' in a rowwww…"

With widened eyes, Braden immediately clasped his hand upon Sean's mouth. "Oi, shut the fuck up! Ye'll have the guards comin' up here wondering what the hell yer on about! Now, get movin'!"

"Ye know who's got _really_ nice coconuts…"

Somehow, by the grace of God, Braden managed to lead Sean into his room, having to kick the door open for his mate because he had to use his arms to steady him. Fumbling with his shoes, Sean finally managed to kick them off, hitting a lamp and breaking it in the process as the shoe projectile shot through the room. "Whoops." Sean shrugged his shoulders, diving onto his bed. "Feels like a field of flowers."

"For God's sake, Sean, how much did ye fuckin' drink?" Braden shook his head in simultaneous wonder and disappointment, somewhat amused that his fellow agent was acting like a five-year-old. "Or are ye on drugs or somethin'?"

"I kissed Lourdes." Sean simply replied with a hiccup.

Braden squinted his eyes. "What?"

"I kissed her." Sean held up two fingers in front of him, eyes half-closed. "_Twice_!"

Giving out a low whistle at this news, Braden pursed his lips in a tight line. "Oh, yer ass is _so_ gonna get fired for _that_!"

"Nah, mate, 'twas good." Sean shot him a weak grin, reminiscing about the moment. He began to say uncontrollably, ranting and raving, "It felt really good. Ye know, I've always liked her. Not just liked her, but _liked_ her. Just didn't wanna say anythin', ye know? Ye think she knows now? Ye think she feels anythin' for me? I think she likes my cousin Connor, though. Do ye think she fancies him? I think she fancies him…" Sean trailed off after this, almost half asleep.

"Dear God, ye poor man." Braden mumbled to himself, lifting Sean's feet so that it would rest comfortably upon the bed. Upon standing straight, Braden heard his mobile chime. Glancing down, he said, "Speak of the devil. Lourdes just texted me."

"What'd the pretty lady want?" Sean slurred through the pillow, though somehow managing to turn his face towards his fellow agent.

In response, Braden winced. "Someone's comin' to town, Flannagan. And it sure as hell ain't Santa."

vvv

An uncomfortable tension stifled all that were in the room. This had been the case ever since their arrival, but it only grew as time passed. Lourdes, Paul and Liam sat on a round table in a small office in the Boston Police Station, eyeing one another alternately as dead silence filled the room.

Lourdes cleared her throat, having the courage to be the first to break the awkward silence. "Now that you've both been properly introduced," she began with a cordial nod directed towards both men, clasping her hands in front of her as her gaze landed upon Agent Liam Keele, "what was the matter that you wished to speak with us about in person, sir?"

Losing all sense of formality, Agent Keele boomed, "What the _hell_ is goin' on, Villamor? I'm on my way here tryin' to find out what the bloody hell is goin' on with this bloody investigation and then I receive _another_ report that one of my agents are dead! Agent Malley, an agent that was under _your_ auspices, is now rottin' in a Boston morgue! Do ye expect me to take responsibility for…"

"With all do respect, sir." Lourdes had to utilize all of her will-power to keep from shaking with anger, caused by his simultaneous reprimand and the sensitive situation that he was speaking so harshly of, "there is a good explanation for all of this."

"Well, then, Agent Villamor," Keele leant back on his chair, crossing his large arms in the process, "please…enlighten me."

At this request, Lourdes didn't know exactly where to begin. Memories of the past few months flashed through her head, each event convoluted, as he began simply, "Agent Malley was a dirty agent, sir. He had kidnapped Agent O'Callaghan and Agent Falkland just last week, luring me out to find them in a warehouse at Boston Harbour. I didn't know exactly what he wanted from me, but I complied with his request, meeting him at a specified day and time." She fought back the painful memory as she sternly recounted, "He became violent and enraged, so, out of self defense, and in order to save Agent O'Callaghan and Agent Falkland, I shot him, killing him instantly. Agent Flannagan and I ensued to free Agent O'Callaghan and Agent Falkland and bring them back to the Irish Embassy."

"So," Keele's voice was drawn out, as though he was fatigued, "that precisely explains why an agent of mine is resting at the Boston morgue."

"Yes, sir." Lourdes let out a shaky breath, swallowing as she proclaimed with a lifted chin, "I am fully aware that he was my responsibility also, but things did not go as planned. I had no idea that he was helping O'Sullivan and the Unionists, and due to unforeseen circumstances, I only did what I thought was best for my team and this investigation."

"We have reason to believe that he had been O'Sullivan's mole for quite some time now." Smecker continued for her, slightly breaking the tension between the two. "We have eye-witness accounts, videotapes, photographs and recorded messages that prove that the two men were in correspondence long before your agents landed here in Boston." Smecker motioned a gracious hand towards Lourdes. "As I have witnessed over the past few months, Agent Villamor here has been doing her utmost best with these investigations, dealing with unexpected situations and difficult circumstances professionally and to the best of her abilities. She should in no way be reprimanded for the mess that another agent was responsible."

Agent Keele pressed his lips into a thin, stern line, arms still crossed in front of him as he pondered about what Lourdes and Paul had just told him. Lourdes felt as though _she_ were under trial, facing Keele as her judge, jury and, in some respects, her executioner. "Alright." He said loudly and suddenly, making Lourdes and Smecker jump in a similar manner, "Ye've both convinced me. I ain't gonna fire ye, Villamor."

Lourdes breathed out a sigh of relief, simultaneously shooting Smecker a thankful look. He replied to her in kind, nodding to her once.

"But," Keele continued, clasping his hands together upon the table. "With the disaster that is this investigation as well as with the press on my ass about this case 24/7, there is only one solution to this at the moment."

Lourdes and Paul shared a nervous look, then, their eyes simultaneously landed on Keele. He kept a firm gaze on Lourdes as he declared authoritatively,

"Get yer agents. Pack yer things." He pushed his chair from the table, standing up. "We're all goin' back to Dublin."


	23. Miles Apart

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for your patience with regards to this story. It took a while to think of and of course an infinity to write because of a hectic schedule. But alas - Season 1 is finished! Here's the last chapter of it. Enjoy, and pray that I have enough energy, inspiration and time to start writing Season 2! There are so many more ideas in my head. ) Enjoy, and thanks for reading! xx IFHD**

vvv

**Chapter 23: Miles Apart**

vvv

"_**I Lie Awake"**_

_**By: Quietdrive**_

_Can you hear me screaming  
Coming to find you  
It's not that I want to  
Make it another night alone  
This feeling is lonely  
Sending me slowly  
Hits me so deep  
It cuts my bone  
Fills my heart  
Burns me up  
For way too long  
For way too long  
Here's my hand  
Pull me up_

_I lie awake because I'm scared  
I'm not as fake as you once heard  
But we'll lay down now making sure we  
Put these words between us_

_Can you hear us falling  
We're falling faster  
It's hard to remember  
Where we were at a year before  
I thought we were ready  
I thought we were steady  
'Till the emotion  
Hit the floor  
Fills my heart  
Burns me up  
For way too long  
For way too long (where did you go)  
Here's my hand  
To pull me up_

_Don't put these words between us_

_I lie awake because I'm scared  
I'm not as fake as you once heard  
But we'll lay down now making sure we  
Put these words between us  
I lie awake because I'm scared  
I'm not as fake as you once heard  
And we'll lay these words  
And we'll put them down  
On the floor beneath us  
Don't put these words between us  
Don't put these words between us_

vvv

It had been days since Connor had last seen and spoken with Lourdes – since St. Patrick's Day, in fact. Instead of making an effort to see her and contact her, he allowed his mixed emotions to get the best of him, consciously and purposely avoiding her. He didn't know if he was truly angry at her, but he just felt as though he needed to take some time to figure things out, to get his head straight once more. When he was calm and ready to face her, to confront her with everything that has transpired between them and the exchange that he had seen her make with Sean, then he would. Though, he would only do it at his own pace. In all honesty, Connor was in no way ready to speak about his 'feelings' - not with her, and not with anyone, for that matter. Thus, in lieu of working with her and the other Irish agents, Connor busied himself by working with his father, who had been concentrating on trapping O'Sullivan himself. Working together, the two men made considerable headway with the IRA case, feeling as though O'Sullivan's ass would be theirs in no time.

As Connor entered his apartment after another visit to his father's home, he found Murphy in an utter state of dishumour, banging cupboard doors and muttering to himself as he stalked around their apartment. Seeing that Murphy had completely ignored his entrance, Connor wrinkled his brows in confusion. "The fuck is wrong with ye, Murph?" He half-questioned, half-scolded as he stiffly grabbed his brother by the elbow before he could do anymore damage to their already decrepit apartment. "What ye doin' sulkin' 'round the house for?"

"Don't act like ye don't know, Con." Murphy immediately shrugged himself from his brother's grasp, shoving a cold pizza slice in his mouth in the meantime before he exited from the kitchen.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Following his brother into the living room, Connor stood in front of him as Murphy rooted himself on the couch.

Murphy shot his twin an impatient look. "The agents are gone, that's what I fuckin' mean."

Connor's eyes considerably squinted at this. "The fuck d'ya mean they're gone?"

With all patience drained from his being, Murphy shot out of the chair, now face to face with his brother, visibly upset. He snarled as he held out his arms to his sides, "I fuckin' mean that they're gone! Not in the Embassy, not in the city. They've gone back to fuckin' Dublin, Con. Now do ye get what I fuckin' mean?"

"Calm the fuck down, alright?" Connor gave him a shove as he proceeded to sit on the couch, running his hands on his face. "I didn't fuckin' know."

"Well, then, now ye do." Murphy's voice grew calmer as he joined his brother on the couch, chest visibly heaving up and down. He stared blankly at the window before him. "Nobody but Smecker's supposed to know. I only know 'cuz Isolde called me. Said she wasn't even supposed to call anyone."

"Why the fuck did they leave? The case isn't even done yet."

"Their boss came. Had a chat with Lourdes and Smecker. He knows everythin' that happened, so as a precaution, or some shit like that, he took them all home. Don't know if they're regroupin' or if they're gonna send new agents to do the investigatin'. In her boss' eyes, Lourdes fucked up big time."

Connor fidgeted in his seat in impatience. "What about the IRA case? O'Sullivan?"

"I said I don't know!" Murphy gave out a grunt of annoyance. "I'm not a fuckin' psychic, Con." Turning to his brother with a raised, questioning brow, he mumbled, "Why the fuck didn't ye know? Didn't Lourdes or Sean tell ye?"

"No." Connor lightly tensed, feeling a pang of guilt. "Haven't spoken with either of them for a few days."

"Fuck." Murphy sniffed, resting his arms on his knees. "We'll go pay a visit to Smecker and ask him what the fuck is goin' on."

vvv

_"Keiran O'Sullivan is the leader of extreme Unionists. We believe that he is the one responsible for the IRA member killings a few months ago. Now, we have reason to believe that he is planning another attack. He is on the loose in Boston, but my team and I are doing our utmost best in order to apprehend him…"_

Smecker turned off the television with a tap of his thumb on the remote control, having enough of watching the interview that he had given just a few hours prior. Flicking his lighter open, he lit himself a cigarette, feeling a bit relieved that he had brought O'Sullivan and the case out in the open. Go ahead and feed the dogs, he thought. He knew that he had allies amongst the people of Boston, and it only served to warn the public about O'Sullivan's gang, simultaneously protecting them and helping him with the investigation. Expose the bastard, drive him out with pitchforks. He only wished that that day would come soon. Now that the _An Garda Síochána_ agents have fucked off back to Dublin, he was the lone Special Agent once more.

The MacManus brothers barely knocked before they strode into the room, unannounced. Smecker stood at their presence, somewhat startled by their sudden appearance. With a glance, he instantly knew why the twins had barged into his office in such a manner. He motioned to the chairs in front of him in response. "Sit down, boys."

Barely sitting down, Connor blurted, "What the fuck's happenin', Smecker? Do the agents know about us? Why'd they leave?"

Smecker held up a hand, feeling the tension emanating from the twins. "Lourdes' superior, Agent Liam Keele, flew in all the way from Dublin to speak with us just a few days ago. Agent Villamor and I tried to explain to him what had happened, leaving out details, of course, and he allowed her to keep her job. To him, this investigation turned out to be a disaster, a right mess of the undercover, classified investigation that he had instructed for them to fulfill. With a dead agent that he has to explain for and his other agents now a target for the Unionists, he thought it was best to take them all home." He placed his clenched fists upon his lips. "I don't know exactly what he plans to do with them there, but he did inform me that he'll be sending new, unmarked agents to continue the investigation. This time, he doesn't think that working with the Boston Police on this one will be a good idea."

"Well fuck him, we don't need his new agents to help us with this shit," Murphy let out a breath, tension somewhat lessening within him. "We're on our own again. Just like we used to be."

"So he didn't mention anythin' 'bout the Saints?" Connor persisted, still feeling a bit uneasy about the situation. "The agents are all alright, then?"_Is Lourdes alright?_, he inwardly corrected himself, finding that his pride wouldn't let him ask the question outright.

"They will be staying at an undisclosed place for the moment." Smecker explained, running his fingers through his hair. "Gonna lay low for now until the case dies down and, hopefully, ends. They were instructed to keep minimal contact even with their loved ones, so I don't know if you two will be able to contact them - even your cousin - about anything right now."

Murphy snorted at this, wholly disregarding it. "Since when the fuck did we follow the rules?"

Without a word, Connor placed a folder upon Smecker's desk. "Da and I have been doin' some research. We think that we've finally got where the bastard's stayin'." As Smecker sifted through the papers and photographs, Connor continued, "It was right under our noses. The fuck and his gang have been hidin' out at the Boston Harbor the entire time. It isn't even far from where that warehouse is."

"So you want to make a hit?"

"'Course we fuckin' wanna make a hit." Murphy quickly answered, annoyance visible on his expression. "We're gonna close this fuckin' case ourselves."

vvv

The humming of the engine was her lullaby as the airplane soared through the midnight sky. Though, Lourdes was wide awake, unable to sleep not only because of what was plaguing her mind, but because of the abominable snoring, courtesy of none other than her boss, Keele, sounding from right behind her. Braden had the misfortune of being placed beside Keele, whose mouth was now a gaping hole in his face, directed right towards him. Braden uncomfortably twisted on his chair, opening his eyes drowsily as he envied Isolde's seat, which was right across from his.

To Lourdes' surprise, Sean was fast asleep beside her, wholly unaware of what was transpiring around him. His countenance was so soft and innocent, a small smile even forming upon his lips. When he had declared that he could sleep through any storm, earthquake and flood, he truly did mean it! Smiling to herself at his vision, Lourdes continued to observe him, reflecting on the kisses that they had shared as though she were a teenager once more. It simultaneously confused and enlightened her, for now it was obvious that Sean saw her in a different light, that his feelings for her were not that innocent any longer. How long had he been hiding this, she wondered, and how real were these feelings of his? Could the first kiss have really been caused by adrenaline, and the other, a drunken fumble? Or was it something more than that? It worried her. It made her feelings convoluted, it complicated the situation. This 'situation', she couldn't really define, but she knew that Connor was in the equation.

Connor.

His form flashed through her mind: his smile, his lips, his eyes. She had finally admitted to herself that she had grown attached to him, that she was beginning to feel _something_ for him. But she knew, whatever happened, whatever that they had shared, that it was all a lost cause. He was in Boston, she was in Dublin. They would be separated, as they are now. Even if this sudden return to Dublin slapped her in the face, she knew in the back of her mind that she was going to return home eventually. Connor couldn't have been serious about his affections for her. Ever since St. Patrick's Day, he hadn't called her. He had ignored her calls. He was with another woman the last time she saw him, for Christ's sake! What other reason did she need to forget about him? Circumstances only brought them together for a while, but now, that moment is over. So, she thought, isn't it time to move on, to forget about the past?

"Ye know, if ye stare at me any longer, I think I might actually blush."

The Irishman had opened an eye, seeing if Lourdes was comfortable, when he noticed her blank gaze in his direction.

Lourdes repeatedly blinked, finally registering in her mind that she _had_ been staring at Sean the entire time. Almost blushing herself, she lightly cleared her throat. "I was…uh…merely looking at the window."

"Ye were staring at complete darkness instead of a handsome Irishman?"

"…Aye."

"I find that hard to believe." Sean jested good-naturedly, lithely turning his body to face hers. "Ye've got somethin' on yer mind again, _leannán_. Ye alright?"

Lourdes bit her bottom lip, lowering her eyes for a moment. "It's just that…this whole going back to Dublin thing, it was really unexpected, rushed…sudden. I wasn't prepared for it. I never thought that Keele over there would actually come all the way to Boston – not just to investigate on what was going on himself, but to personally take us back. It just makes me feel so…incapable of running such a big international operation, you know? Like I'm not cut out for it."

"Hey," Sean began soothingly, rubbing the length of her arm, "Ye shouldn't think like that, _leannán_. Yer one of the best agents that I've had the pleasure of knowing, and also, one of the most understanding bosses that I've had the privilege to work for. Ye dealt with the circumstances well, and nothing that happened was yer fault." He let out a deep sigh, nodding, "We left Boston quickly, aye, I agree. I didn't even have time to say goodbye to the MacManuses. But hey, we'll see 'em again. I'm sure of it."

God, how she loved Sean's optimism. It was then that she realized that she _did_ hold on to the hope that she would see the MacManuses again – Connor, in particular. To add to her confusion, no matter what had transpired between them, she truly did want to see him again.

One day, she will.

Giving Sean a smile of gratitude, she made herself more comfortable on her seat. As she leaned her head upon Sean's shoulder, he wrapped a protective arm around her, resting his head gently upon hers. Ever so slowly, they entwined their hands, feeling each other's warmth and comfort. Lourdes momentarily eyed her hands within Sean's, though not releasing her hold. With another deep sigh, she finally closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

vvv

**A/N: End of Season 1. Hope that wasn't too disappointing. ) I guess the easiest way for you to know when/if I update is to save me to your Author Alert list. In the meantime, if you haven't so already, check out the other story that I am currently working on entitled "Even In Heaven". Thanks again for reading, and happy holidays! xx IFHD**


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